


The Hekan ritual

by Titels



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Demon!Tom, Exorcisms, Exorcist!Harry, Gen, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titels/pseuds/Titels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry met Tom as a kid and would gladly have never seen him again. But even if the demon hadn't been summoned by a cult, there was little Harry could do to avoid it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work hasn't been beta read. I gladly accept constructive criticism and/or an actual beta.

”Hello Harry, have you missed me?”  
  
The voice was one that should belong to his past, and a voice Harry had hoped he would never hear again. It was the voice of his past mistakes coming back to haunt him, of the worst mistake of his life. An innocent one, surely, but sometimes those are the worst kind.  
  
It had been when Harry was eleven and just after he had met Hagrid. Kind, gentle but impressive-in-size Hagrid. He had stormed into the house, knocking Harry's uncle aside when he tried to stop him. He had been mad then, angry when the Dursley's called him a freak and told him that they aimed to beat all of the freakishness out of Harry. That boy was most certainly not going away to join some obscene cult, Petunia had lost her sister to it and she was not going to lose her nephew as well. Those were actually some sensible statements, Harry figured later on. Except for the part of beating him. Even though his relatives had lied to him all of his life up to that point; said that his parents had been killed in a car-crash and that they had been nasty communists, as well as beating him, in their own way they had been trying to save him from being dragged into that world. He still wasn't quite sure why they tried to rescue him while clearly hating him so much, but that was just the way it goes.  
  
Either way, that day Harry had gone with Hagrid, as the man had mumbled some sort of strange spell that hit Dudley, making him grow a grotesque pig's nose and turned his hands into hooves. In the resulting chaos over this, Hagrid had grabbed Harry's hand and fled. He had been a bit scared that first day, scared of the large man who did such a strange and horrible yet, a small part of his mind whispered, wonderful thing to his cousin. So he had gone without objection and ended up having one of the greatest days of his life. Even with all that followed, Harry couldn't regret that particular day.  
  
Hagrid brought him along on his motorcycle, let Harry sit in the small passenger wagon and the speed as they took of was the greatest thrill he had ever felt. He loved the way the wind rushed through his hair, making his eyes water and how they just left everything behind. And after that they had gone to eat at what looked like a gloomy pub. It laid in a pretty nice part of London, but the exterior was worn down by the years and was dirty, the windows grimed shut. Beggars sat beside the doorstep and their rank smell and dead eyes scared Harry like nothing else. But in they went and, well, the inside was a bit better. Still worn out and filled with some suspicious looking fellows, it was at least properly cleaned and at that time of the day smelled like the very savoury stew Harry was later treated to. They sat in the back of the pub where no one really bothered them, even if the sight of such a young boy in there might have raised an eyebrow or two.  
  
A nervous looking man even approached them, eyes flickering between Harry and Hagrid as he spoke to the latter. ”Is that their son? Is it truly?!”  
  
Hagrid broke out into a bright smile and grinned for minutes after, unable to stop. He stuck out like a sore thumb in that place. Harry had the feeling that this wasn't really a place where people came to be happy.  
”Yeh, it es. Dumbledore askid me to go check up on 'im.”  
  
The eyes that had flickered to Harry stopped there for a second.  
  
”So I see... great news, of course. C-certainly the kind of ch-character we'd need.”  
  
Then they moved on and the man did as well. He had made Harry feel unsettled, but that feeling quickly dispersed as they got their food and Hagrid got talking. He didn't actually tell Harry much about the society his parents had belonged to, but he did tell Harry about his parents.  
  
”Yeh know, 'arry, I knew your parents. Before their tragic death. Great people, Lily and James were, the best.”  
  
”What did they do?” Harry stared at him with wide eyes, having never heard of them spoken of with anything but disdain before.  
  
“They, as ah am, were part of a war. Nah,” he stopped Harry before any question could even pop out, “not one of 'em you can see on the telly, nothin' like that. It es taking place all over England, all over the world even, but that's a bit too big of a playin' field, ya know? So yer parents were great, they worked as a team and could bring even the baddest demon down. Nothin' could stop them... “  
  
Demons. The word echoed in Harry's head, strange and almost meaningless. The Dursleys had been careful not to let him get exposed to “any of that nonsense” and thus he had only had small glimpses of it. People screaming the word on TV, as he stayed up and tried to listen in from his cupboard. They'd sounded afraid. A neighbour talking about a stray cat, calling it a “proper demon, killing of all the birds in her yard and digging up her garden”. What little Harry knew of them, it was that they were bad. And his parents had fought them, which meant that they had to be great people indeed. In an instant adoration Harry wanted to be a part of the society and do what they had done.  
  
“I want to help!” Harry exclaimed, startling the other man. He looked down on him with wide eyes, and then a hesitant smile reached his lips.  
  
“Ah'd think so, yah. But we'll wait a little, jest couple o' years. An' I'll talk ta Dumbledore for yah, see what he says. He's a great man, Dumbledore, so he'll know when it'd be a good time ta bring you in.”  
  
Harry wasn't happy with this, he was already eleven and old enough to cook and clean and manage himself. He was definitively ready to help them, in whatever ways he could. Squaring his shoulders he prepared himself to look Hagrid straight in the eye and say that it just wouldn't do. But there was a certain sadness in the man's eyes as he met them, and Harry found himself unable to say it. Instead he asked about his parents.  
  
Hagrid smiled as he talked about them, happy in a way he hadn't been before. Said that they were the best couple there could ever be, that two people had never loved each other as much as they. And neither had any parent loved their child as much.  
  
“Yah should know that, 'arry, that when yer parents found out you were on your way, they stopped fighting. Didn't want ta risk it while you were so young. Demons can be very sneaky, ya know. An' they wanted yah to grow up in a nice home. Have a happy childhood...”  
  
“Either way, they also had lots of friends. Had a gang they liked to keep close with. Sirius an' Remus an' Peter. Best of buds. They went to school together, did yah know?”  
  
Hagrid told him about how his mother looked, with her gleaming red hair and piercing green eyes, and his fathers charcoal hair, “that yah got as well”, and how Harry's mother always helped out those in need. Had even helped Hagrid out once, back at school. He had been the grounds-keeper, still were in fact, and some little rascals had got it into their heads to bully him. She had been fierce in the way she slew them down, scratching at their own insecurities like they had tore at Hagrid being so large as he was. And then, when she was done, she had stopped and made sure they all had tea together. Showing how it was all fine. His father had been less subtle, but Harry had admired how brave he sounded. How he would never back down from a challenge, even when it was to race through the forest on his bike. He had got into a lot of trouble for that one, but had got out victorious. Scratched and bleeding from where he sped through the greenery, and looking a little pale from the lecture he had received, he had none the less been hailed as a hero coming back.  
  
Then the day had ended, and Hagrid had taken him back to the Dursleys. Had to do it, in fact, or it would have counted as kidnapping he said.  
  
Harry hadn't protested as he drove away, even though he knew that his uncle was hovering just behind the door and that the second Hagrid was out of sight Harry would be yanked in and get the beating of his life. And so it happened, before they threw him into his cupboard as usual. But it wasn't that bad, Harry found himself thinking, because he still felt full from that wonderful stew, and the things that he had been told no one would be able to take away from him.  
  
Over the next couple of weeks, Harry found himself increasingly mistreated. He would get less food and be beaten over the smallest of things. The visit had clearly unnerved the Dursleys, and Dudley had yet to leave the house. He looked less like a pig now, the spell seemed to be slowly fading. So Harry hid outside as much as he possibly could.  
But some days were cold and dreary, the rain falling down in great sheets of water. A while ago he had discovered a new place to hide out during those days. The school had brought them there, and while that visit had consisted of the whole class standing quiet and silently as the librarian explained what the place was and that they must be very silent while in there and that they were not allowed to touch any books with dirty hands, Harry had once taken refuge in there from the rain. And when no one had tried to kick him out or say that he didn't belong there, he kept going over.  
  
And so it was, that while he was browsing the shelves in the children section; Harry had yet to ever borrow a book with him home but he did read them there, he found a book he'd never seen before. It didn't look like it belonged in there, because instead of bright colours and large letters it was bound in leather and had a snirkly, cursive writing. Harry stood a long time, trying to read the title. The author was TMR, and that was easy enough, but the title... Harry couldn't make it out. But the first chapter was called “On the summoning of Demons.”  
  
Needless to say, Harry brought the book home with him. Looking around to be sure no one saw him he stuffed the book beneath his shirt before heading home. No one even glanced in his direction, and when he next returned there didn't seem to be any fuzz about it. Probably they hadn't even noticed the book missing. That was fine for Harry. He kept it hidden beneath his mattress and read it whenever he was locked up. Or read might have been a bit of an overstatement. Most of the text was too strange for him to read, but there was images of circles and stars and what Harry assumed had to be demons. Sometimes there was words that he did understand. Blood was one that kept repeating, as well as sacrifice. Draw kept coming in combination with Pentagram, and after a while Harry gathered that it must refer to those symbols.  
  
But there was one image that captured his attention, because he felt like he recognised it. There wasn't anything in particular that discerned it from the other pentagrams in the book, but... Harry spent long hours just staring at it, tracing the lines with his finger. Beneath it there were some strange words written. Harry worded them out, one by one. Tasted the feel of them in his mouth and how, after several attempts, it left him with a tingle in his tongue and a buzzing in his fingertips. It was terribly dangerous, he knew, but oh so wonderful. Harry wondered if Hagrid had got the same kind of feeling when he changed Dudley, felt like there was power urging to be released when he spoke the words. Harry wanted to do a real spell.  
  
He finally did one hot day in July. School was soon about to start again, and Dudley still didn't look too good. He was able to hold a fork for himself now, a thing he took ruthless advantage of, but his hands were still definitively strange looking and when he talked he had a tendency to let out the occasional oink. And as they sat there at the kitchen table, Dudley shovelling food into his face and then letting out an oink instead of the demand for more, Vernon snapped. He shot up out of his chair and was over by Harry in a second. Grabbing his arm he literally threw him into the hallway, shutting the door behind him to save his wife and child the sight.  
  
“You miserable little shit,” he swore, kicking Harry down again as he tried to get up. “Here me and Petunia are, welcoming you in with open arms, and then you dare bring that freakishness into our house! Dare bring a friend who does that to Dudley!?”  
  
When kicking didn't seem to bring the enough satisfaction, too impersonal, Vernon got down on the floor and laid in on Harry with his fists. The boy yelled out as a vicious punch broke his nose and the pain was probably the worst he had felt and the blood just wouldn't stop running. A punch to the stomach halted even the scream as Harry's air all left his lungs and yet the hits kept on coming. It was only when Petunia rushed out of the kitchen to grab her husband's arm and to talk some sense into him that he stopped.  
  
“Vernon, you have to calm down! I will not have you killing that child! Come on, we'll throw him in the cupboard and then go back to enjoying out meal.”  
  
Panting heavily from the exercise, Vernon nodded his assent and got up from the floor. Grabbing Harry's arm he pulled the semi-consicous boy across the floor and into the little area beneath the stair, taking care to lock the door after depositing him there.  
  
Harry breathed heavily and carefully through his mouth. This was the worst. If demons were bad, then his relatives must be even worse. His entire body hurt and he wasn't sure that he would be able to move properly, but an idea had risen in his mind and it was one he had had before. This time, however, he didn't have the will to resist it.  
  
Slowly he got on his knees and fumbled beneath his mattress for the book. He found it and it fell open almost by itself to the page he wanted. Blood the book said, and right now he had blood in excess. With shaky fingers he reached out and traced the pentagram on the floor. It might not have been an exact replica from the book, Harry found that his sight was rather blurry, but he hoped it would be close enough. Once done, he put the book away. He didn't need it to recite the words that had etched themselves in his mind.  
  
Speaking around the broken nose and swollen cheek was painful, but Harry was nothing if not resilient and kept it up. If the words came out slightly slurred, it didn't seem to matter, because his tongue was tingling worse than ever and his fingers buzzed. It built up to an immense pressure, so overpowering Harry couldn't even feel his aches any more. The pentagram on the floor seemed to glow with its own light and then Harry's eyes blackened out for a second. When his vision returned the tingling had gone and there was a boy standing in the pentagram. Though the space was so small he had been forced to hunch over, and an annoyed frown graced his face.  
  
Harry's eyes were wide. It had actually worked. The boy looked nothing like he had expected him to. Instead of the goblin like creatures that had been illustrated here and there in the book, this boy was fair beyond compare. Black, carefully arranged locks and piercing grey eyes. He was of slim build and pale skinned, and the way he held himself, even bent over, seemed aristocratic. He seemed to be examining his hands with a certain scepticism.  
  
“Not quite right...” he mumbled, before his eyes lifted and landed on Harry. Tilting his head, he let out a small sound of acknowledgement. “Ah.”  
  
“Uh...” Harry said after the demon had been staring at him for a while, “Hullo. I'm Harry.”  
  
A small smile spread across the other's lips. “Hello, Harry.” He took a step closer, crowding Harry who backed further up on his mattress. “Are you my master?”  
  
Master?! The word, while Harry knew what it meant, felt foreign to Harry when applied to him. He was hardly anybody's master. The closest he could think of someone being one was his uncle. If that was what a master was, then he didn't want to be it. A shudder ran down his spine. The demon kept watching him with too intelligent eyes. They narrowed at his shudder, then glanced upwards.  
  
“Are they up there, Harry?” He asked, “The people who you wish me to punish?”  
  
“P-punish?!” Harry stuttered in shock. The other made the word echo with pain and suffering, and it made his blood freeze.  
  
“Yes. That is why you summoned me, is it not? To wreck havoc upon those who has wronged you?”  
  
“Eh, no, I, that is... It's not even possible that you showed! You look nothing like the ones from the picture!” Harry held the book out for the other's surveillance.  
  
The demon glanced at the page, uninterested, and then did a double take.  
  
“Indeed, that is not I...”  
  
“So, uh, I'm sorry that I bothered you!” Harry babbled, “I... I made a mistake somewhere, eh... Sir.”  
  
“Tom. And it is quite alright, Harry. Now that I'm here I might as well help you out with your little problem.”  
  
“No!” Harry shouted, “No, you can't! If I'm your master, I want you to go back!” Footsteps started pounding on the stairs, the loud, angry ones of his uncle Vernon. “NOW!”  
The smile he got in return was eerie.  
  
“Boy!” His uncle bellowed, “quit making that racket! Didn't you bother us enough during dinner? It seems you didn't learn your lesson!”  
  
Vernon threw the door to the cupboard open, ready to reach in and pull Harry out. But as his chubby hands reached in, they stopped mid motion and his uncle was forced back as Tom took a step out through the door.  
  
“W-what!? Who are you?!”  
  
The glare Tom sent in his direction was enough to shut his mouth. Satisfied, Tom turned to Harry again, who had crawled forward, staring out of his room with big, frightened eyes.  
  
“Do you prefer it slow? Or did you wish for his death to be quick?”  
  
Harry opened his mouth and closed it again, without getting a single syllable out.  
  
“If it was up to me, I'd make it slow. Slow enough to see his inevitable decay...”  
  
Tom turned back to Vernon again, and his eyes lit up, shone red as power coursed through him. Uncle Vernon's body was seized and began to spasm, eyes looking like they were about to pop out of their sockets. He screamed in pure agony. More footsteps sounded in the stairs as Petunia came pelting down, worried for her husband.  
  
“Vernon!?”  
  
Without wasting a second Tom turned on her, and a spasm seized her as well. She went down, falling the few steps that was left and then laid shivering on the hallway carpet.  
  
In the cupboard, Harry was shivering too. The monster that stood before his eyes was beyond terrifying, and it was Harry's fault he was there.  
  
“Stop..!” he whispered, “stop...”  
  
And then Dudley was sticking his fat nose down the stairs, sleepily calling for his mummy. Tom's grin widened and it was as if the pain he had already inflicted was making him hunger for more. Harry could feel the power gathering again and knew he had to do something. Barrelling out, he went tumbling straight into the demon. They both fell to the ground, missing Vernon by a hair, and then they were tangling.  
  
As they were of similar sizes, the fight was almost equal. Or perhaps Harry would even have won, had he not been hurting already from his beating. A minute passed, and then Tom threw Harry of himself and stood. He looked furious. Harry feared that the demon would do to him what he had already done to his uncle. He needed to... he needed to send him back. But he didn't know how and in desperation his eyes flickered back and forth through the room. And there, behind Tom, was the pentagram, still painted onto the floor in his blood. If the demon had come from there, then maybe, just maybe, that would be the way to send it back.  
  
There was no time for thinking. Letting out a roar Harry threw himself at him again and they both tumbled back. Using whatever strength that was left to him Harry pushed the demon into the floor, as if he could physically force him to return.  
  
“Go back, go back, go back!” Harry raged, using the last of his energy to push Tom down. “Go back you bastard!”  
  
Then something actually happened. Fierce heat rose up, almost embracing them.  
  
Tom said, “Okay,” and grabbed Harry's arms tight and began to sink down, as if the floor was made out of quicksand. Now Harry was fighting to get away, bracing his feet on the floor and pulling backwards. Tom smiled at him, almost completely gone but for his head and arms. Behind him the heat was even more scalding, and furious screams filled the air. Tom was almost gone, only his arms and wrist still out. Harry's hands had begun to creep downwards. He felt as if something strange was licking at them down there, caressing him.  
  
Shaking his head he was babbling, words streaming out of his mouth without stopping. He had to get away, had to break loose. He pulled, pulled, pulled. And with tearing skin he got one arm loose. The hand that had held it disappeared without a trace. The other seemed to grip all the harder in retribution and Harry scrambled around, looking for anything to hold on to. His fingers found the book, and he brought it down, hard, on the demon's fingers. It made them twitch, and Harry pulled back so hard he fell over. He was free from the grip, and his floor was solid concrete again. Even the pentagram had disappeared as if it had never been there. 

  


After that, life had become different. The first weeks after had been hell. The police had came, and found the mess Harry had been left in. Vernon and Petunia both lying on the floor, not dead, but certainly not healthy either. They were unresponsive to all attempts of communication, and every so often they would twitch, as if fighting to wake up from a nightmare. And Dudley, he was sitting on the stairs, hugging a railing. The rescue personnel had a lot of troubles with getting him to let go and come away with them. Even after they did, all he would do was to babble about evil and devils, and point at Harry when they asked who did it.  
  
While at a loss of how to explain this at all, the police were all in agreement on that, whatever the fat kid said, this situation could not have been caused by an eleven years old child. Something had caused them to go catatonic, but whatever it was had to have been huge. They tried asking Harry as well, of course, but he said nothing. Because he knew well enough that no one would believe his story about a demon.  
  
Instead he kept silent, preferring not to open his mouth at all. Well, except for the times when the nightmares intruded on his life. Dreams about Tom and what he did to his family. And dreams where the demon would be successful, and drag him to hell. This silence got only worse after the dreams stopped limiting themselves to his sleep.  
  
Harry would be washing his face in the morning, and look up to meet Tom's eyes in the reflection. The demon would coo at him, or on occasion swear, and then reach out of the mirror, trying to touch Harry. To stroke his hair or cheek, or slap him, sometimes to dig his nails in and pull him close to the glass. Up close, Harry could see the fires raging behind again. He would tear himself away and it would leave deep gashes in his skin. The next time he would look, Tom would be gone. The wounds remained, however.  
  
Needless to say, the people at the hospital they were staying at were concerned. After all, it could be no one but Harry who had done it. They sent him to psychiatrist after psychiatrist, even though it didn't work out with any of them.  
  
Tom liked to screw with Harry's mind while at these sessions. He would be a hand coming up through the floor, grabbing the psychiatrist's foot and slowly, slowly, pulling them down. Harry knew it wasn't real, he really did, but then he remembered the scratches and he flew out of his chair, beating at that hand to make it let go. Beating, beating, beating with desperation, until he was pulled away.  
  
Most resigned after that, said he would need a person better suited to cater to his problem to help him. Especially since he never uttered a word while doing it.  
  
Sometimes, Harry would destroy mirrors and other reflecting surfaces. While it was obvious that the demon didn't need these to show himself to Harry, they seemed to be his favourite. Harry removed all shiny silver objects from his room and always kept the TV on. He made sure that the drapes were closely shut at night, so that there could be no reflection in the windows. And then he faced his nemesis, and smashed the mirror in the bathroom. That was the time the nurses truly freaked out.  
  
Nothing was working, but as if sent by god a man came by. Dumbledore, he called himself, and he said he was a psychologist who specialized in traumatized children. Especially those who seemed beyond help. His credentials were good, and he didn't ask for too high a salary, so the hospital decided to let him try.  
  
He was definitively different from the other psychologists. For starters he didn't ask that Harry speak to him, instead, after offering Harry a lemon drop, he told him a story.  
  
“Once upon a time,” he began, “there was a society. An old society, but one that had now fallen out of fashion with most of the population. But that was no matter, it existed still, and every so often new people would join it. At this time, it so happened that two young persons joined at the same time. One was a girl with fiery red hair and green eyes like a cat. Her temper may have matched her hair, but there was no one who could match her in intelligence. The other was a handsome lad, coal black hair and a mischievous attitude. Even though the circumstances were different, they both came for the same reason: demons. The lad, James, came from a family which had long been part of this society, and had been expected to join ever since he was a child. Lily, on the other hand, had known nothing of such things until that very year. But after witnessing her best friend being attacked by one such creature set out to find the truth behind it.”  
  
Even though Harry had been sceptical at first, this story caught his attention. How could it not, when not months ago Hagrid had told him about his parents and demons. It couldn't be a coincidence that the people from the story had the same names... But like he had for a long while now, Harry kept quiet and listened.  
  
“Needless to say, she found it, and what she found made her willing to stay and be a part of the society. As they learnt together, Lily and James found themselves to be in love. But it was not all good, for a threat was approaching. A grand demon, in fact. Another group of people had found a way to summon him, and by doing it they would have brought this world to an end. Luckily, Lily had summoned a demon with a love for talking. It told her of this, and she and James were able to stop the ritual before it was complete. But the cost was great, for both James and Lily perished in this battle, leaving their young son an orphan.”  
  
Dumbledore stopped talking and looked at Harry expectantly. The boy stared back, something stuck in his throat. For the first time in weeks he wanted to speak, but felt unable to.  
  
“I'm not sure how much Hagrid told you, Harry, but I believe it is time for you to join us, if you want to.”  
  
Harry managed to croak out a “yes.”  
  
Dumbledore took Harry away from the hospital and brought him to a place called Hogwarts. It was the headquarters of the society, or as Harry soon would learn, “The Order of the Phoenix.” Everyone there knew about demons, and while Harry found himself unwilling to share his experience, they seemed to intrinsically understand what he was going through. He started talking again, much due to the fact that spells and rituals demanded a vocal command. And if there was one thing that Harry was eager about, it was learning more about the occult and how to fight demons, and one in particular.

  


The demon from his childhood looked, well, the same, but older. Having been summoned through a proper pentagram this time, and not one a third of the size and badly drawn, had let him come through in all his glory. To Harry it seemed as if power was rolling of him in waves, licking at Harry where he was tied up, threatening to drown him.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Harry swore to himself, fiddling with the rope that held him tied to the gravestone, fighting to get up, to do anything but sit helplessly tied to the stone.  
  
Over in the pentagram Tom was looking at him, and he was smiling predatorily. For a long minute – or was it longer? – the demon just kept his gaze and Harry found himself even unable to scrabble about helplessly. But then he turned his gaze to Peter instead.  
  
“Loyal servant...” Peter bowed even deeper, seemingly trying to get into the very earth to show his obedience.  
  
“Yes, master!”  
  
“Why is there a circle of binding? Remove it.”  
  
A binding circle? This turn of events made him even more desperate. If he could get himself loose, he could stop Pettigrew from letting that bloody demon out.  
  
Calm, calm... with more patient ease Harry felt around, looking for a sharp stone or edge. If he could just get loose...  
  
“Well, master...” Peter grovelled, “The terms we agreed on wasn't clear... I need to... you have to...!”  
  
“Release me from this circle and I shall grant you riches beyond your dreams.” He looked back to Harry again, smirked as if he knew exactly what the boy was doing. “Do not fret. You have arranged for me what I want, so you will be rewarded.”  
  
Harry had found a rock and was busily sawing away at the thick rope, but for a second his heart jumped and he lost his hold of it. If possible the demon's smirk only grew larger. With renewed fervour Harry grabbed it again.  
  
“Thank you, master!” Harry wasn't sure it was possible to do more grovelling, but apparently it was. “If you grant me life and power, I will be your loyal follower!”  
  
“Aren't you already?” the demon whispered back, eyes burning red for a second, “Did you not already promise me your eternal service? I will, of course, be sure to keep you in the standing you deserve.”  
  
Pettigrew needed no more incentive, but was crawling across the grass now to break the rune of power. If he did that, nothing would stop the demon from walking this earth. Giving up his carving, Harry threw himself against the ropes, and they broke. Scrambling up on legs that had fallen asleep from the long wait, Harry felt like a newborn colt as he rushed towards the rat that had betrayed everyone.  
  
Tom's eyes snapped to him in a second, and his voice rang out over the field, caressing Harry's spine.  
  
“Harry... do you remember? I have a favour to cash in.”  
  
Harry threw himself forward, launching himself toward Pettigrew, just as the demon spoke. And then the compulsion hit him, as Tom made his unspoken request for what that favour would be. Stop. Losing all control over his limbs, Harry went careening into Peter, sending them both tumbling through the grass. As they rolled, the speed sent them into the barrier, and the force of their bodies ripped grass and smudged blood alike. Harry came to a halt within the circle of protection, found himself gazing up into Tom's eyes. The circle had been broken, and there was nothing to stop him from roaming the earth.  
  
“Thank you, Harry.”  
  
A long arm reached out towards him, and then there was nothing but darkness. 

  


Tom looked down on the boy passed out in the grass. Not quite a boy any more, though. Harry had grown up during his absence and lost that starved look. He would never be a big man, but Tom could no longer count his ribs. The sight pleased him. Even though he would have loved to be the one that nurtured the boy, that opportunity had passed him by a long time ago. But he had made his choice, and so far it was playing out beautifully.  
  
From where he crouched, Tom reached out again, stroking his fingers along Harry's face. Mapping out his features with his fingertips. His boy was beautiful. He wondered how Harry would react, once Tom's plan was put into motion. How he would struggle as Tom burned the world and the people in it. Would he cry? Would he be angry? As it always did when his mind wandered that way, an image of young Harry's face as he banished Tom back flashed before his face. And now he could imagine that look on the youth's face. It made him shiver.  
  
Even Tom himself wasn't quite sure how his obsession with the boy had begun. How he had become a want, a desire, instead of a soon-to-be-body. All other who had summoned him had ended up dead, even Harry had been so close to becoming embraced by the flames of hell. But that little boy, weak-looking and pathetic... He had let him go. And thinking it had been his own doing, the boy had lived his life as if the demon had no claim on him, even going so far as to try and protect himself from Tom.  
  
No matter. Now he was Tom's, and the demon would never let him go. He longed to take Harry, and to lock him up where no one could get but him... but there was work to be done, and it could be prolonged no more.  
  
Especially not as Pettigrew was growing impatient, and his rat-like squeal intruded on Tom's musings.  
  
“My master... please!” He was kneeling and holding out his arm, which ended in a bleeding stump. Right. To summon him properly, a larger sacrifice than blood was needed, flesh and bone, freely given, was a requirement.  
  
Tom grabbed Harry's arm and hauled him up, half dragging him out of the circle. It was unlikely, but not impossible, that he could be returned again should he be caught in it. Tom liked to cover his bases.  
  
Stopping by Pettigrew, who was carefully waiting outside of the circle, he grabbed the arm which was presented to him. He couldn't give the man back his flesh, or it would make the summoning null and void, but giving him a replacement could serve to be amusing. Just a nudge of power was all it took, for despite his fear Pettigrew was receptive to what he would do. He expected riches and to be rewarded.  
  
The look on the rat-man's face was amusing to say the least. Tom wasn't sure what exactly he had been expecting, but the rat's paw that had grown to replace his hand was clearly not it. The man let out a squeak, completing the image.  
  
Tom gave him no time to gasp over the change, instead he let go of Harry and grasped the man's unharmed arm. There was a tattoo on it, on the lower part of the wrist, shaped like a skull with a snake crawling out of it.  
  
“This might sting a little...” The demon ran his nail along the outline of the snake, scratching through skin and bringing blood welling to the surface. As he completed the pattern it lit up with a red sheen. Pettigrew fell to the ground, clutching his arm and yelling.  
  
The pain was a necessary evil, though Tom could admit that even if it hadn't been, he would have made sure it was a part of it. The demon spoke over the sound of wordless screams, and though the country he could feel it as his followers responded. Those humans who had sworn their allegiance to him and had been branded with the tattoo. They left whatever they were doing to reach their positions, and the pain wouldn't stop until this was done. 

  


The scream woke him up. Blood-curling, never-ending. It managed to reach him, even far down into the depths of his consciousness. For a moment, even after he opened his eyes, all Harry could experience was that scream, but then vision returned to him and he saw Tom standing over a howling Peter and he heard the demonic chant. The demon was completely occupied with what he was doing and Harry saw his chance. He needed to get away, to get back to Hogwarts and the order so that they could prepare to fight this enemy.  
  
As silently and carefully as he could, Harry crawled away, keeping a constant eye on Tom. His hand clenched around the amulet he kept in his pocked, his father's protective charm.  
  
“Kah, Muh, Rahn!” He whispered, and the amulet heated against his skin. A feeling flowed over him, like being covered by a soap bubble. He had always found it unpleasant, but it was a strong charm, capable of shielding him from the sight of demons. He had never had the chance to try it against one as strong as Tom, but now was as good a time as ever.  
  
Feeling safer, Harry dared to rise up and scuttle away on all fours. And that's when the demon seemed to notice something was amiss, for he looked down at the place where he had left Harry and...  
  
Throwing himself behind a gravestone, Harry was spared the worst of the blast of power that emanated from Tom as his rage got a hold of him. Having let go of Pettigrew, the man's screams fell silent. Red eyes scanned the graveyard, but didn't catch sight of Harry. Whether this was due to the amulet or the gravestone was anyone's guess.  
  
After a minute the rage calmed down and Tom began to walk along the paths.  
  
“Harry....” he called out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are....”  
  
Impossibly, he was taking the same route Harry had taken. Harry didn't know if he somehow knew, could smell where he'd gone, or if it was just pure luck. Perhaps the demon had simply guessed it, based on Harry's earlier actions. The creature had spent an extraordinary amount of time just observing him, after all.  
  
“Harry... I know you can't have got far. I can still hear the sound of your heartbeat. Why don't you come out now, and make it easier for yourself?”  
  
He was just next to Harry now, but when he looked around the gravestone, his eyes passed by as if there was no one there. Holding back the sight of relief, Harry waited until he had moved away a bit, before crawling sideways to put as much distance between them as possible. Even as he got far away enough to dare to get up and run, he could hear Tom's call urging him to come out. Always so sweet and tender, as if Harry didn't actually know the demon's personality.  
  
As he ran, Harry dared a quick look back. As the amulet only protected him against the eyes of demons, he could see the moment Pettigrew caught sight of him. Those ratty eyes widened and his mouth opened in surprise. That was it, then. He would yell and direct the demon, and while Tom might not be able to see or sense him, he would most definitively be able to touch him. It would all be over, should Tom get his hands on him again, Harry was sure of that. The demon was possessive to the ridiculous.  
  
Before this, when Harry had only seen him in reflective surfaces (for the protection of Hogwarts was too strong for other apparitions) and the demon had almost faded into nothing more than a horrible nightmare, Harry had been training with Snape. The man hated him for the sins of his father, though no one had been very willing to tell just what those were. So when things went south with the demon they had summoned; there had been a small fault with the ring of binding and the goblin got out, Snape had cared more to save his own skin than Harry's.  
  
There were spells, of course, ways of protection. Harry had holy water which he threw at the demon, as well as a cross to make it keep its distance. But it had been a small vial, and the cross would only offer protection while in his grasp. So when a well-aimed hit had meant that the cross flew out of Harry's hands he found himself unprotected. The goblin flew at him, long claws ready to tear his flesh and pull the eyes from their sockets. But it fell short, falling on the floor bare inches from him. The eyes of the demon were wide open, and it looked at Harry with unimaginable horror. A hand was holding its foot, and there was a crackling of bone as it tightened.  
  
The demon gibbered and stretched a hand out toward Harry, as if begging to be saved as it was slowly being dragged backwards and down through the pentagram again.  
  
A voice echoed through the room, filled with a surprising fondness.  
  
“Tss, tss, Harry... I thought you could take better care of yourself than this. It seems I'll have too keep a closer eye on you. Who knows what you'd get up to if left on your own.”  
  
The demon had almost disappeared completely, but Harry was staring not at it but the pentagram in horror. What if... He knew it shouldn't be possible, after all the pentagram was not made to summon Tom, and a demon of his level needed to be summoned specifically, but what if...  
  
Heart drumming, Harry watched the demon get sucked down completely. If Tom was able to get through, now would be the time that it happened. The floor shifted like quicksand, and Tom spoke again.  
  
“Don't worry, Harry... I'll make sure no one ever tries to touch you again. They will all remember who you belong to before tonight is over.”  
  
And then he was gone, and the floor was nothing but concrete and paint again. The ring was inactive, but Harry didn't trust it. In a frenzy he picked up the cross ran over and erased paint with it, breaking the pentagram. Only then did he allow himself to relax and breathe out.  
  
It was the same now. Harry had frozen on the spot, not even breathing, as he waited for the doom to be carried out. Waited for Pettigrew to open his mouth and shout, point at him. Yet the man closed his mouth, and turned away. It took Harry a moment to realise that he wasn't going to expose him.  
  
Breathing out, Harry saw Tom striding the other side of the graveyard, angrily turning over a gravestone now. Not wasting another moment, Harry began to run.

  


The news of Tom's arrival at earth was taken with mixed reactions. Dumbledore, ever on Harry's side, looked deeply concerned with the development. Snape, on the other hand, was looking sceptical. He wasn't the only one. Fudge, who mainly took care of getting rid of the media's attention and wasn't much on the field himself, voiced that scepticism.  
  
“Potter,” he said, “while we appreciate all you do, you have done much fine work for us, that is for sure, I do believe this success has gone to your head. We would know, Sybill would have forseen the rise of a great demon and we could have taken precautionary actions.”  
  
“But..!” Harry began, but was cut off.  
  
“It has never happened that a great demon has arisen, without it being foreseen. And we have people working on this, day and night, you know. Looking at the old prophesies and the new, seeing if the signs match up. No one has even seen as much as a hint about this!”  
  
“They could have missed it! I have seen some prophesies, and they are not always clear! It may even be one of the really obscure ones. Nonetheless, it is true! Tom is wandering this world, and I don't know what he has planned, but it can't be anything good!”  
  
“Oh, this boy...” Fudge turned away and shook his head. “Too many battles, you're seeing shadows everywhere. And that Peter would have been the one to do it.. Preposterous! He has been a most loyal part of this group for years, Potter.”  
  
Harry wanted to argue that while Pettigrew had certainly been a member for a long time, hadn't there also been a lot of strange occurrences when the demons seemed to know more than they should? Hadn't they only some weeks ago been discussing the possibility of a mole?  
  
“Ah, there he is now!” Fudge said, staring out the window where Pettigrew could be seen walking across the field. He seemed a bit jittery, but then again, to others it wouldn't seem strange. The man was always jittery, had been ever since his dear friends James and Lily had been killed.  
  
Fudge opened the window and called out.  
  
“Hoi, Peter!” Attention caught, he waved. “Come on up to Dumbledore's office, there's a chap!”  
  
Moments and some very inefficient arguments later, Pettigrew knocked and walked into the office, his left hand stuck in his pocket. Fudge beamed at him.  
  
“Here, why don't you have a seat?”  
  
The rat looked around at all of the, looking decidedly nervous. Especially when his eyes landed on Harry. He let out a small, startled squeak.  
  
“Fudge, sir,” he stuttered, “What, what is this about then?”  
  
Shaking his head, Fudge put on a friendly smile. “Oh no, just clearing up some silly misunderstanding, that is all. Now, Harry here,” he made a sweeping gesture towards the man, “seems to believe that you would have summoned, and let out one of the great demons. Now I said, listen here, Peter is a solid chap, and would never do such a thing. So we'd just like to know where you've been during the afternoon.”  
  
“Oh!” Pettigrew squeaked, opened his mouth and then closed it again. Hesitatingly, his body twitched as if he wanted to run out. But then, something changed with him. Harry didn't know exactly what, but that nervous aura he gave off disappeared. He started talking again, and while it was with Pettigrew's voice and words, it seemed far too confident. “Well, here's the thing. I was out walking when I came past an unauthorised summoning ring. No one was there anymore, but I found Potter passed out nearby. I couldn't get him to wake up, so I ran for a doctor. When we came back, he had gone. So I can't quite say what had happened before, but it seems Harry must've got quite a knock on the head.”  
  
Fudge nodded along as if he had expected this. That bout of complete bullshit that was sprouting out of a rat's mouth.  
  
“Sir,” Harry said, “you can't possibly..!”  
  
“Mr. Potter!” The man was unusually firm. “While I appreciate you as an agent, and I'm sure you were there to stop that summoning from taking place, it seems to me as though that knock on your head scrambled your brains around a little. A fancy dream for sure, but not reality. Please, do go and let madame Pomfrey have a look at your head, and then take the week off.”  
  
With that he tipped his hat to Dumbledore, then the rest who were present in the room and left.  
  
“But..!” Harry tried, but this time it was Snape who silenced him.  
  
“Quiet, Potter! You heard Mr. Fudge, go see the nurse.”  
  
Harry trudged out, closely followed by Pettigrew. It made Harry's skin crawl, and he increased his speed down the winding stair. A strong grip on his arm stopped him short.  
  
“Why in such a hurry, Harry?”  
  
Harry froze, because that really didn't sound like Pettigrew any more.  
  
“I must say I was very disappointed that you chose to leave me so quickly before.” A hand – only it didn't quite feel like a hand, too hairy and clawed – wrapped around his throat and he was pulled back against the man. A deep chuckle found its way to his ear as he was pressed close and the other's mouth was right next to his cheek. “I had waited for so long to meet you, just you and me in person. And then I find out you went to tattle to Daddy...” He was nuzzling Harry now, nose running along his cheek and throat. “But, alright. I'll play this game with you. It'll be fun to see who ends up victorious.”  
  
After a final nuzzle and a sharp yank of his hair Harry was released, and Pettigrew-not-Pettigrew continued down the stairs. Harry stood frozen for a second and when he finally found his legs again and rushed down, the man was nowhere to be seen. 

  


After seeing the nurse (he had to, or Snape would find out and deem it fit to dole out some ridiculous punishment) Harry went to find his friends, Ron and Hermione. They would believe him, even if no one else did!  
  
Hermione was holed up in the library as expected. The rate she was learning new spells and demonology was rather frightening, Harry thought she knew more than him, even though he had been there for a year or two more. Even so, Harry had a feeling that it would really come in handy now.  
  
“Hermione!” he shouted, and got a glare from the librarian. Harry winced, he had always been terrified of her even if she had never laid a hand on him. But she had given him that glare on his first day there and there was just something with it that made the hairs stand on his neck.  
  
Mouthing a 'sorry!' to her, he headed over to where his friend was sitting.  
  
“Harry!” She said, eyes wide as she took in his appearance. “What happened to you?”  
  
“Just what I need to talk to you about. Where is Ron?”  
  
“He was going to have some practical exercises, as you should have been as well.” She frowned. “Harry, what's going on?”  
  
He shook his head. “It's better to have you both here. I'll go and fetch Ron, meet us on the seventh floor.”  
  
“But Harry...!” She yelled, but he was already taking off, running down to the cellar where he was sure Ron was.  
  
Once he got there, it became quite clear that he wasn't wrong. However, he had failed to take notice that it was Snape who held the lesson today. Clearly he had been called up to the office when Harry came storming in, but he was back now, hovering over Ron's shoulder like a bat.  
  
“Mr. Weasley... if you can't even complete such a simple incantation such as this one, however are you planning on actually taking down a demon? The next one you face will tear your face off. Now, again!”  
  
Harry winced. It wasn't easy, but the professor certainly didn't help. He knew that Ron could this incantation, heck, had even seen him send back a demon with it, but that was of course when Snape wasn't present and breathing down his neck. And Ron looked exhausted. Harry wondered how long they had been at it. The soul could only handle so much magic at a time before needing to be recharged. It struck him that this was what the training had been about today. Since he had missed it it looked like poor Ron was having to do double work.  
  
At that thought, he could see Ron swaying on his feet. Snape could as well, and he sneered. “I said again!”  
  
Ron opened his mouth and started the chant. Halfway through he choked, unable to get another word out. The teacher shook his head in disdain.  
  
“It seems your stamina is even worse than I thought. It's a wonder Granger stands it.” Outside in the hall, Harry almost choked on his tongue at that and had to back away from the door to avoid being seen. Had Snape just made a dirty joke?! He shook his head. It wasn't a thing he wanted to dwell on.  
  
A moment later and Ron appeared in the doorway, looking unsteady.  
  
“There you are!” Harry whispered, unwilling to be caught by Snape. If he was, he might be forced into the lesson now and there just was no time for it. “Come on, I've got you.” Bracing his friend under the arms, Harry led him up the stairs.  
  
By the third floor, Harry regretted that deciding that they would meet on the 7th. It was just too far and Ron was barely walking by himself.  
  
“Harry,” he said with a voice that sounded like gravel. Too much magic wore away at the vocal chords. “Where were you? How could you leave me alone for that lesson?”  
  
“I'm sorry,” And Harry was, in many ways, “I promise it wasn't willingly. I'll explain it soon, just hold on, alright? We just gotta get to Hermione as well.”  
  
They managed three more stairs before they had to stop. Harry felt like he had dragged Ron up the last stair, and they were both exhausted now.  
  
“You just had to pick the top floor, didn't you?” Ron wheezed.  
  
Harry shook his head. “Sorry. Had I know you were this out of shape I would have picked a lower floor.” Ron gave him a weak glare.”Alright, let's do this. One more stair.”  
  
Harry pulled Ron's arm over his shoulder, even as the other boy groaned. It was with a lot of pain that the pair made it up.  
  
Hermione was waiting from them on the top of the stairs and she didn't look very impressed. She grabbed Ron's other arm and together they went to their secret room. They called it “the room of requirement” because, well, that's what it was. Someone long ago had cast a spell for the door to connect to a series of rooms, all filled with different furniture and trinkets. You needed to open the door in specific ways to find them, otherwise it just looked like a broom closet.  
  
Hermione let go of Ron and twisted the round handle right-left-left-right and then knocked three times. The door swung open on its own to reveal a cosy sitting-room with a fire-place and two light blue couches facing each other. Harry happily deposited Ron in one of them.  
  
They had found the secret of the room after being told by the goblin Dobby. Unlike summoned demons, goblin could manage to appear on their own will, as they were rather weak, letting them slip through the occasional cracks between hell and the human world. Most of the time they took residence in houses and helped keeping the house. In return they ate some of the life energy stored in the house. Unless there were many of them in one place they weren't particularly dangerous to humans. Other demons saw them as snacks, which was how Harry had met Dobby.  
  
Coming upon a summoning gone wrong, the demon had already slain its summoner and was crowding Dobby, ready for an after-dinner snack. Harry made short work with depositing it back and the goblin was so grateful he offered to help Harry out. Bringing it back to Hogwarts, Dumbledore had only been too glad to make use of his services in cleaning and cooking. Hermione found it disgraceful and that it was slavery, but Dobby seemed to thrive at Hogwarts.  
  
For the same reason the small creature had pointed them in the right direction when they needed somewhere to lay low, after managing to spectacularly piss Snape off. Dobby had only know of one room, but trust Hermione to tweak and twiddle until she had found another four. Harry had seen the chart she had made to test the combinations and just looking at it had given him a headache.  
  
Now, slumped in the couch, Harry was rather glad he had saved Dobby and that Hermione had taken the effort to find this room. He didn't want anyone to overhear what they were talking about and go running to Fudge.  
  
Surveying the room out of habit, Harry found his eye landing on the window. It was dark outside and the ligth from within caused made him see his own reflection. “Shit!” he swore, rushing to close the curtains. But as he was closing them he froze. There was something different this time... Heart pounding he looked back to the window and saw nothing but his own reflection. There was no hellfire, no mocking laughter, no Tom. For some reason he was certain that there wouldn't be, either.  
  
Staring at his own reflection for the first time in years, Harry swallowed nervously. This was proof then, wasn't it? Proof that that lunatic demon really was free from hell. Harry had no doubt that he could still perform the mirror trick, but having a physical form in this world would be limiting his reach. He couldn't be anywhere at once.  
  
Shutting the curtains for good measure, Harry turned back to his friends. Ron was still panting in the couch and Hermione was sitting next to him, looking at Harry expectantly.  
  
“Okay Harry, can you tell us what has happened now?”  
  
Harry hesitated, not sure how to go about this. What if they didn't believe him? But they had to, of course. “He's free. I don't know why anyone would think it was a good idea, but they set him free and now he's roaming the world and taking over Pettigrew and...!” He sunk down in the couch, feeling helpless. “What do I do?”  
  
He felt a hand on his shoulder and glancing up he saw Hermione reaching over. “Harry, I'm sure we can handle it. But that made no sense. Tell us again, from the beginning.”  
  
“Ah... well, I was outside this morning, running. And imagine my surprise when I'm joined by Pettigrew! He was rushing to catch up with me, so I thought it was something important and stopped to wait for him. He started saying something, but he was too far away and I didn't realise that it was a knock-out spell. By the time he reached me it was ready and he knocked me out cold. Next thing I know I'm in the old graveyard, tied to a gravestone and Pettigrew is in the middle of a summoning ritual in front of me. A big one.” Hermione was watching him with eyes wide open, and while he's pretty sure she's already figured out what Pettigrew was summoning, she doesn't interrupt.  
  
“He doesn't even look at me when yell at him, only keeps going with the ritual. As the final step I could see him cutting off his own hand, throwing it in the circle.” Ron made a retching sound and Harry stopped himself. That's right, he had cut of a hand. But later, there had been two. But one hadn't been quite human. A shiver ran down his spine. He wasn't sure what it was now, but it was probably unpleasant.  
  
“Who did he summon, Harry?” Hermione asked, voice wavering.  
  
“Tom. Voldemort.” It had been a long time after that Harry learned that the demon who had introduced himself as Tom to Harry was actually Voldemort, one of the great demons. As names have power, the demon had given a different one so that Harry wouldn't have that power over him. Still, the name Tom was ingrained in Harry's mind.  
  
Hermione nodded like she had expected it but Ron let out a loud gasp. “Pettigrew let out you-know-who!?” Using a demon's proper name also had some summoning power, a way to catch their awareness. The people who knew about Tom would refer to him as you-know-who instead, especially when in Harry's presence. You didn't want to get any more attention from a demon who was constantly peeping in anyway.  
  
“Yeah.” Harry nodded.  
  
“Shit.” Ron said, which was a rather proper sentiment. “What do we do?”

  


“What do we do?” That was the question that kept haunting them afterwards. They sat for hours, trying to come up with a way to get Tom back down. But for all her research, the only instances Hermione knew of where when people either showed up in time to stop the summoning entirely, or when the demon still was stuck in a ring of binding.  
  
“We can probably get him down again if we could get him back to the original circle.” Hermione said, for the millionth time. “The circle is a weaker spot and easier to open again, because the first entrance causes the split to hell to open.” It was a good theory and one Harry was willing to believe in, considering he had forced Tom back through the same circle once already. But the summoning spot had been messed up when Harry threw himself at the rat and he didn't think Tom would be careless enough to leave the marks either way. It was probably why Pettigrew had been back much later than Harry. Even if the area still was active, they would be forced to paint it again. It had been an extremely complicated pattern and Harry couldn't remember it fully. The sad fact was that they were out of ideas.  
  
“We need to tell someone. Someone has to have an idea on what we need to do.” Hermione said.  
  
“I wish we could, 'mione,” Harry said, “but I already tried that! They didn't believe me, just chased me out.”  
  
“Well, that was Fudge and Snape, wasn't it? Of course they wouldn't believe it. But Dumbledore is a clever man and he knows you, Harry. He'd know you wouldn't make this up.”  
  
So they had gone to talk to the man, and he had welcomed them into his office, offering up lemon drops the moment they set foot in the room.  
  
“Professor, please this is important!” Despite not having had any lessons with Dumbledore for years now (for all their continued training they were officially trained agents already) the habit of calling him their professor stuck. Harry didn't think they would ever stop.  
  
“Ahh, yes, I was wondering when you'd get back to me again, Harry.” Dumbledore looked at him, eyes twinkling. “This is about Tom again, isn't it?”  
  
They nodded.  
  
“It is a troublesome situation, I have no doubt. Only once before have we heard of a great demon being properly summoned to this world. And let out, none the less!” He still seemed so damned cheerful, Harry couldn't understand it.  
  
“What was done, professor?!” Hermione asked, voice screeching slightly in her anxiety.  
  
“Ah, if I remember correctly it was the demon Grindewald. Fearsome beast, that. He was forced back, though only with great loss.” Dumbledore fell silent for a moment. “If memory serves he was forced back through the same summoning circle from which he had come. It can be quite tricky, otherwise. Normal banishing spells wouldn't work.”  
  
“So that's it?” Harry felt at a loss. “We need to use the same circle?”  
  
“I believe it would be the easiest way, my boy.”  
  
Harry fell silent, pondering. So they needed to get Tom back through the seal in the graveyard. But it was most likely not even existing still. Tom was clever, he would definitively have destroyed it, wouldn't he?  
  
“We have to go look.” He turned to his friends. “The seal will probably be destroyed but it by some chance it still is there..!”  
  
“But Harry,” Ron chimed in, “it could be a trap. Don't you think you-know-who would think of this? Strategically it's a great position for a trap.”  
  
Harry hadn't thought about that. But now that it was mentioned, it was the perfect position for a trap. Because even knowing that it was one, they would need to go there. More specifically, Harry would need to go there. He couldn't send anyone else or the demon would probably massacre them without a second thought or batting an eyelash.  
  
“I still have to go. We need to know if this plan can work or not. And if he is there, I can make sure to force him back once and for all!”  
  
Hermione shook her head. “It's too risky, Harry! And even if he doesn't get one over you, how are you planning on getting him back? Professor,” she whipped her head around, turning to the old man, “do you know exactly how to get a demon of this strength back?”  
  
Dumbledore blinked at them serenely. For someone who believed them about this, he seemed awfully calm. “That, I believe, was managed through an equal measure of willpower as it was by force. Once in the circle, the demon was shut in by a circle of binding. Then...” he paused and for the first time the twinkle in his eye seemed to be gone. “...blood was needed to open the portal to hell again, but once the cut was made the demons ensured that it would keep flowing. They couldn't stop, the ritual had to keep going, even if it meant that one of them would be sacrificed. She told them to continue, knowing that it would drain her completely and take her life. But she told them to keep going and didn't allow them to stop. As if it didn't hurt at all, she told them to continue. Once the last of the blood was gone, the demon seemed to go back of his own free will. Through no effort at all he was pushed back down...”  
  
Chills ran down Harry's spine. A human sacrifice. Would that be the only way to send Tom back? The thought made him sick to his stomach. He could never ask anyone to make that sacrifice.  
  
“There has to be another way! We can't let anyone die!”  
  
Dumbledore turned his sad eyes to Harry. “I wish I could tell you otherwise, Harry. But this is a matter I have looked into deeply, and the only way is by a sacrifice. You see, demons will fight back with all of their might, you know this. And normal ones can be banished with a lesser sacrifice, by throwing energy at them. You can recover from this, but to force a great demon back into the pit you need so much energy it will always destroy. The moment of death brings with it such a surge of energy that the demon can be forced back.”  
  
“But...!” Harry said, just as Hermione spoke. “Maybe we could find a way to divide the energy? Take it from more people to make up for it?”  
  
The old professor smiled at them, a melancholy smile. “It is a thing which should be possible in theory, but you might find that doing it practically is near impossible.” He bent down and reached into his desk. “Here, take this.” He handed Hermione a slim book. “It was written by an unnamed author from the early 19th century, a great study of demonology. He has studied the energy needed for the summoning and the banishing of demons. You will find my own notes on the subject as well.”  
  
Hermione took the book gently, taking care not to break the book.  
  
“I never made much progress with it, but I hope your fresh eyes will be able to find a way.” He paused. “I think you all know this, but it is of utmost importance that we stop him. Even if he doesn't do it himself, this world was never made to withstand demons. The barriers between our worlds will break.”

  



	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Sorry for the wait, lots of things happening IRL.
> 
> Note that the demonology here is mostly made up. Inspired by random movies/literature/series and then mixed together in my brain. 
> 
> Like before, I don't have a beta so I gladly take some constructive criticism. If anyone is interested in betaing, please let me know as well!

“Okay.” Hermione faced the boys across the table. “I'll get started with this right away. You two- start looking for any previous documented occasions of this ever happening. We can''t go wrong with more information right now!”

Ron's eyes widened in horror. “'Mione... couldn't I do something else?”

Hermione glared back at him. “Don't be lazy, Ron! At this point we need more information before we can even think to face you-know-who. Or do you want someone to die?”

Ron shook his head. Harry fidgeted in his seat. Researching was all well and good but it was going to take too much time. And besides, they were basing all of this on the idea that they could reuse the summoning circle again. But what if it was gone? Then this would be nothing but a waste of time.

He opened his mouth to argue about it, but a stern look from Hermione stopped him in the act. They had already discussed this and she shot down all of his arguments. It wouldn't be a waste of time because the circle being there would be helpful, but not essential. They would plan for other occurrences as well. It was too dangerous for them to go there, the risk of Tom lying in wait was too high.

Still... Harry couldn't keep still as they sat there, scanning book after book for some sort of spell. What was she even thinking they would find here? If Dumbledore didn't know of the way, they surely wouldn't be able to find it either. The professor had said that he had researched it, hadn't he? If anything, they would need to find a different manuscript, something no one had seen before.

Unless Hermione managed to solve the energy equation. In that case, any of the banishment incantations (which would normally require a sacrifice of life), should do, right? Harry and Ron were working on a pile of books with incantations which might potentially help them out. They already had one from before, Hermione had taken out the book as they got to the library. It looked like a well thumbed cheap pocket, but Hermione swore by it. And at least the ritual was carefully described in it, down to every minute detail and every consequence. Harry felt a bit queasy after reading the latter. Dying was one thing but this... it sounded like a horrible agony. He could agree that they would need at least another one, in case something went wrong.

After browsing through five or so books and finding nothing, Harry let the heavy volume fall closed with a bang. Hermione glared at him and the librarian shushed them impatiently. Harry swallowed back his annoyance and smiled at her in apology.

“Hermione.” He whispered, “I'm gonna use the loo, okay?”

She nodded and Harry was off, followed by Ron's jealous eyes. Outside, Harry took off in a sprint. He didn't have too much time before they would come looking for him and he needed to make sure he was well on the way by then. He rushed to his room to pick up some basic equipment – holy water and crosses and the like – it wouldn't stop Tom, that was for sure, but it could buy him some time if he was in a real pickle. The main thing he needed was his father's amulet and a wand of carved elder-wood for protection. Tom might be a big-bad, but like all demons he had weaknesses. Elder-wood wouldn't be enough to force him back, but it might keep him away from Harry. With any luck, at least.

Rushing down the stairs, Harry was grateful that he didn't meet anyone. There never were too many people in the castle, but he didn't need the distraction or the eye-witnesses. At times, Harry thought it would have been nice if the amulet could shield him from human eyes as well.

Getting to the graveyard was a breeze, but he stopped and got of his motorcycle a mile away. It was too noisy and the amulet wouldn't be able to hide it. After activating the spell Harry made his way forward.

It was quiet in the graveyard, eerily so. No sign of life and the graves were all old and covered with grime and moss. It wasn't strange – Little Hangleton graveyard hadn't been in use for years now – but Harry couldn't help but feel like imaginary fingers were running down his back. He had been so intent on going before that he hadn't even stopped to consider the fact that it was already dark outside. Stumbling through a dark and untended graveyard probably wasn't his brightest move, but he had already got here so he couldn't turn back now. If he did Hermione would never let him out of her sight again.

After stumbling around for a while Harry saw the outline of larger structures and felt like sighing. It had been there, beneath the statue of an angel...

Something made a sound up ahead, a slightly screeching noise. Harry hid behind a mausoleum and stood still, trying to determine what it was. If there was a harpy up ahead he'd be so screwed. Those things were horrible to fight, with their claws and shrieks. Even thought he knew he could win against it the sounds made would be enough to alert the whole of England he was there.

Walking slowly, Harry rounded the corner of the mausoleum and looked around it. The graves were lower on this side and he didn't see anything or anyone there. Still... caution was key. Harry didn't know how much time he had spent slowly making his way forward, but then he was there and the angel of death towered above him. No sign of any harpy or other thing. Perhaps they had been worrying over nothing?

On the other hand, there was no sign of the pentagram. He could see the track of his landing where the grass had been moved and bare earth peeked out, but it was like the pentagram hadn't even been there. The grass looked thriving and untouched.

It had been expected, yet Harry felt a pang of disappointment. If Tom could have overlooked a thing such as that, he might have failed to notice other things as well. But no luck there, huh?

Still, the spot looked almost too perfect. Maybe it was just an illusion...? Harry sat on his haunches next to the grave, sweeping at the grass with his hands. Something tingled as he did so and Harry pulled his hand away with a speed that almost knocked him over. What was that?

Carefully easing back, Harry felt it again. It was a strange tingling, like the earth itself was suffused with power. He closed his eyes and murmured a spell of detection. A scent washed over him, sulphur and fire and pain. It smelled like hell, and Harry was suddenly 11 again and about to be dragged down, down, down. Tom's fingers were closed around his wrists and gripping tight and this time there would be no escape and no letting go.

Harry pulled and pulled as he was being sucked down, beating at the hand that held him stuck. And then the scent was gone and this time Harry did fall over as he threw himself away. His hands were muddy and hurting and it was a long while before he could stop the pants that were breaking the silence.

That was... it had been... it was nothing but an illusion from the spell. But damn if Harry had expected that, the connection to hell. Harry had never felt it that strongly before. He didn't think there would be any issues that the pentagram was gone.

Once he had calmed down Harry rushed to get back, no longer caring to keep quiet. If someone was there they would already have heard him. In his haste he didn't notice as something moved in the shadows of a mausoleum.

Getting back to his bike Harry found himself face to face with Hermione and Ron.

“Harry!” Ron shouted, snapping Hermione's attention to him. Her face had been pale at first, but after minutes of yelling at him for being irresponsible it was instead taking on a red tinge. When she was finished she threw herself around his throat and hugged him close.

“Don't freak us out like that!”

“I'm sorry.” Harry hugged her tight.

They didn't get around to talking until they were back at Hogwarts again, where Harry told them what had happened. Ron was shaking his head, muttering something under his breath while Hermione looked thoughtful.

“What is it, 'mione?” Ron asked.

“Nothing...” She shook her head, “or well, I'm not sure yet, but I'm having a theory about the border between Hell and earth. I think that every time a demon passes through it weakens that spot, if only temporarily. The stronger the demon the worse the break. This would obviously be in our advantage and maybe I can include this in my calculations... Anyway! Let's go to bed and continue our research in the morning!”

She got up and rushed away to her room.

“So...” Ron said, “bed then?”

Harry nodded and they went off.

The next day was grey and gloomy and filled with research.

After hours of mostly fruitless research Ron threw down the book. “That's it! I can't do this anymore. Give me some demons to banish or something! There should be plenty now that you-know-who is here, shouldn't it?”

“You're right!” Harry said, mostly to himself. “There should be things happening, people dying or demons appearing or something! But none of the scouts are reporting anything. It's weird...too quiet.”

“So that bastard is up to something big then! We gotta find out what it is so we can stop it.” Ron said, satisfied to hear there would be something to do except for research.

Hermione frowned. “I suppose you are right. Why don't you two check with the scouts then?” She turned back to her book again and murmured, “Gods know I get more work done without you guys around anyway...”

Ron probably would have been upset about it before but with the taste of freedom in the air he didn't care. “Come on, Harry!”

The two set off up the stairs until they reached the astronomy tower. Why it was called that was anyone's guess, because for as long as Harry had been there it had always been the base for the scouts. They had chosen it as it was the furthest from the spells and exorcisms performed on the lower floors. Technology and spells had a tendency to disrupt each other.

The scouts were a part of the society in Hogwarts, but instead of actually fighting demons they supported the exorcists with finding them. Of course, they all had been taught a modicum of spells for self-defence, but it wasn't their main purpose. Nonetheless, they were a great help. Harry didn't even want to imagine having to do their job as well; they would have no time left for actual exorcisms.

The astronomy tower was just one room, filled to the brim with phones, computers and other machines. Harry didn't know what half of them did, but that wasn't his job. At the moment there was only one person in there.

“Hey Trelawney.” Ron said and the person jumped so badly she almost fell out of the chair. Turning her head she faced them with huge eyes behind her thick glasses.

“Oh. Mr. Weasly, Mr. Potter.”

“Hi Mrs. Trelawney. How are things going?”

Sybil Trelawney was one of their scouts, as well as a seer. She didn't go out on missions, instead spent most of her days cooped in up the astronomy tower. There was usually one or two people with her in case she got a vision but it had been years since her last recorded vision so it wasn't strictly kept. Besides, Harry was told that they had cameras recording the room which would be able to catch it.

“Oh, you know!” Trelawney answered, looking around the room. “The stars have told me that there was a great meeting happening. Would you like a cup of tea? I can tell your fortune if you do, you know.”

The boys grimaced. Most of the time people would avoid talking to Trelawney as she would always tell your future. Inevitably it would also predict someone's death. But before they had the chance to say no to the offer the woman was already on her feet and clicking the kettle on.

She was humming to herself as she prepared the tea and once done she pushed the cups into the boys hands where they stood.

“Now, go on and drink it all in one chug.”

Ron and Harry glanced at each other. It probably would be the fastest to just do what she said before asking anything. Trelawney was known to be a bit uncooperative otherwise. Raising their cups the boys drowned the liquid. It wasn't very strong but the freshly boiled water burnt on the way down.

“Ohh, good good! Now let's see here,” she took Ron's mug, peering into it and humming and hawing. Harry glanced down his own cup as she did so. What she expected to find there was beyond him, it was only tea leaves...! Harry froze. It had to be his imagination going into overdrive, because there was no way the leaves were lying in the shape of a gaping skull.

“Oh, Mr. Weasley... It seems you will have a shot at fame if you take the correct path. Now, Mr. Potter, let's see what fate has in store for you.”

Harry handed the cup slowly. It was nothing, just chance that his leaves were formed like that.

The seer took one look and gasped. “Oh no! Terrible news! Death will come for you. Oh no, oh no. This is awful!”

She backed away and sunk down in her chair. “Just terrible...”

Harry shook away the shivers that were wandering down his spine. It was just a fluke and she always saw someone's death. They were here for a reason so they should get to it.

“Right.” Harry said, “I promise I'll be careful, truly. Now, could you...”

“It won't be enough! This signifies that you will for certain be engulfed! It is not a weak omen. Being careful won't change anything. Ohhh I'm sorry for these news.”

“Eh...” Harry said, “It's alright. It's not your fault. Now, we'd really need to know what's happening in England. Are there any unusual things going on?”

“Unusual? Your omen is unusual boy. But out there it's calm, only a minor summon found. Someone was sent there already.”

“Okay. Thanks Mrs. Trelawney.” The boys started to leave. As they did so they heard her mumbling to herself. “I tell him he will die. And he thanks me..!”

 

“So...” Harry said some time later, after the boys had not so subtly fled from the tower. “There are no news. I'd have expected to hear about demons appearing right and left by now, or at least people dying. It's weird. Tom couldn't have come here only to do nothing.”

“Maybe he is. Just not what we are expecting.”

Harry turned to look at his friend. What could a demon do that would be different from what they expected? Normally they came crashing through for killing and feasting on blood, on rare occasions causing trouble by actually granting their summoners something. There had never been anything but destruction, right?

“So what then? What could he be doing?”

Ron shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, mate.”

“Thinking about it, he could be doing anything. As long as he has people willing to give up their souls his power must be endless.”

“Still, there should be signs. A great demon can't walk this earth without anyone noticing!” Ron shook his head. “Let's check the newspapers.”

Easily done, and it felt more fruitful than going through old books. But after checking the stacks of papers they couldn't find anything for certain. Without being certain of his goals, everything and nothing seemed suspicious. The bank being robbed could be it, provided Tom needed money for whatever scheme he was planning. But on the other hand, by using magic he wouldn't even need it. They were at a dead end.

 

“Pettigrew...” The voice was quiet but commanding, “What do you have for me?”

“My Lord,” Peter lay prostate before his Lord, barely daring to look up. “I've kept an eye on the boy, like you asked.” He fell silent. Tom raised an eyebrow in impatience.

“And?”

“They are looking for ways to banish you, my lord.”

Tom smirked. He didn't even need to be told that. His Harry would fight him every step of the way, wouldn't give up until there was no hope left. A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine and he stroked the black lock of hair between his fingers.

“Anything else?”

“No my Lord...” Hesitant. Peter could have cursed himself, it was too hesitant.

“...”

“Uh, just, Potter went back to the graveyard, he seemed to look for the pentagram.”

That was expected as well. Falling back into his seat Tom waved his hand in dismissal and the rat scampered out, not a moment too late. The man's presence was nauseating and Tom had other plans he needed to set in motion.

Someone knocked on the door. Malfoy. Perfect timing.

 

“Harry, you need to see this!” Hermione rushing into his room startled Harry awake. Without his glasses and still half asleep all Harry could see was a massive blur of motion in front of his face. Blinking his eyes rapidly let him make out the shape of a newspaper being shaken vigorously in front of him.

“What... Hermione...”

“You need to see this!”

The newspaper was thankfully taken away from his face, only to be replaced by the girl eagerly trying to put his glasses in place. After almost losing an eye Harry snapped.

“Hermione!” She paused in her actions and Harry had the time to take the glasses from her, sliding the frames over his ears. “Okay, now what is it I need to see so desperately?”

She held out the paper and Harry took it. It was wrinkled from the treatment but it didn't stop Harry from seeing the headline. The End Is Nigh – Serial killer raising hell. Uh-oh. Ominous enough. Flipping the pages quickly Harry came to the centrepiece.

The article spanned two pages and the centre was taken up by some low-quality images of crime scenes. Each one showed the same thing- a body hung above a pentagram. Harry would bet his soul that the pentagrams were summoning spells. Unfortunately the images were too low quality to know for certain.

_Is this the end? A spree of Satanist murders caused upheaval in our town last night. Spanning from the east to the west, the south to the north, this heinous killer haven't held back as he left his victims in all parts of our town. His victims being both men and women, children and elderly, no one is safe, dear readers. Having talked to the police it is clear that they are bewildered. They could say no more but to make sure that you don't go out alone at night. But this reporter would have to wonder, is that really enough?_

_Showing their usual lack of qualification, the police is floundering helplessly..._

Harry stopped reading. The rest was just filled with the reporter pointing fingers and sprouting theories, nothing helpful. He glanced at the signature. Rita Skeeter. Figures.

“This is it, isn't it?”

Hermione nodded. “I think so. But Skeeter doesn't give us enough to go on, just gossiping. We need to know what demons have been summoned to figure out what he's planning. I've already talked to the scouts and they haven't been able to find out anything else. The police is keeping it strictly under wraps and Skeeter... well, most of them don't even wanna get near her.”

“So what then? We need to know! And we can't let Skeeter stop us.” Harry looked up at Hermione with resignation. “We'll need to contact her, won't we?”

“She's an awful woman, but we need these pictures and short of stealing them it's our only option.”

Harry shook his head. He wasn't particularly looking forward to going there, but it needed to be done. They needed to know what the demon had up his sleeve. “'mione, if you could leave I can...” He gestured vaguely at his body, still covered by the duvet.

“Oh!” Hermione blushed and rushed out of the room.

She was waiting outside of the door when Harry went out, Ron with her. Wasting no time, she started to explain what they needed to do.

“I've already called the paper and got you a time to meet with Skeeter.” When she had had the time to do that, Harry wasn't sure but he wasn't going to complain about her proficiency either. “It's in an hour and a half, so you'll have time for breakfast first boys. I said that we are students of theology and that we are working on a paper and that more information on this killer could be very helpful.”

“And she believed that?” Harry asked, sceptical. He had heard nothing but bad things about Skeeter, but never that she was stupid. Additionally she must have got a lot of calls from people who wanted to know more about it, why would she waste the time to talk to some students?

“She did. In fact, she was almost ecstatic about the opportunity for having us over.”

And wasn't that just suspicious..? Why on earth would Skeeter be enthusiastic over having some students coming over to ask her questions? She seemed to be shallow and an attention whore, but he didn't think being used as a source for an essay would be the kind of attention she was looking for. Too low key.

But on the other hand, who was he to question it? If luck happened to be on their side this once he wasn't going to complain.

“Alright. Let's have breakfast then before we leave. Now that the bastard has shown his hand we can't waste any time.”

Breakfast was served in the great hall, where Dobby was in charge of maintaining a whole buffet of goodness. He squealed happily as the trio entered, pointing out what dishes had been freshly made. Harry smiled at the creature. While Dobby could be quite over the top with his enthusiasm he had always been a friendly face and gone out of his way to help Harry and his friends.

“So,” Harry said as they sat down on a table a bit distant from everyone else. By now the rumour had spread that Harry was a bit loony, and they didn't need anyone to overhear this. “How are we doing this? What do we ask?”

“Well,” Hermione began, “I was thinking you'd let me lead. I've prepared some questions here to fit in with our cover story.” She pulled out a sheet from her bag. When had she had the time to do this?

“Seriously Hermione, are you a seer? There's no way you had the time to write those questions while running from my room to let Harry know.” Ron said with his mouth full.

Hermione gave him a bit of a disgusted look and raised her hand to gesture for him to close his mouth. “To be honest, I saw the article quite a bit before that. The Daily Prophet has an online version as well and it posted the story hours before.”

Ron swallowed his food in one fell swoop. “Why didn't you come tell us then?!”

“I thought you needed your sleep. And we couldn't do anything before all of this was set anyway. And besides, I'm the one who plans these things, aren't I? We'd still have gone for the same plan but you would have been grumpy for being woken up.”

She did have a point. Ron was well known for being awful to deal with first thing in the morning and this way they both got to go in guns (or in this case, questions) blazing, just like they preferred.

“Okay, so we just ask the questions and hope she'll show us the pictures?”

“Oh, we need more than that. She has to give us the pictures so we can study the pentagrams.”

“Great,” Ron commented, “more studying. Not like we have even cracked the first part of the puzzle yet. At this speed you-know-who will have reached his goal before we are even done.”

“He has a point, Hermione.” Harry said. “We're on a limited time schedule here. Is it really necessary for all of us to go? We need to use all the time we've got.”

She frowned. “I suppose you're right. But Skeeter seems like she will be tricky. I've heard lots of people saying that making a deal with her is like making one with the devil. It will come back to haunt you.”

“So much the better to not get all of us caught in it then.”

“I think Hermione should stay.” Ron said.

“What?!” Hermione turned to look at him so fast her hair flew. “You just don't want to be stuck with the books!”

Ron held up his hands in defence. “No, 'mione, or well, I suppose it's part of it but... Mainly your part is the most important. We've already found some spells so as long as you can find a way to split the cost of the spell we're good to go.”

She deflated, unable to argue with his logic. Hermione knew she was the one who might break the puzzle and she had already spent hours on the equation. She had a theory set up already and it felt like with just a bit more of time it would be complete.

“Fine. You guys go.” She handed the paper over. “But be careful, alright?”

 

An hour and a half or so later Ron and Harry found themselves sitting in some cushy armchairs in the lobby of the Daily Prophet. Through glass doors they could see people working rather frantically and the occasional shout could be heard out. They had let the receptionist know that they were there and the time for their meeting had come and went.

“Harry,” Ron asked, not for the first time, “are we being stood up?”

Harry shook his head, even as he thought that it was a definite possibility. It had seemed too good to be true that Skeeter would just make time in her schedule from some students writing an essay. Stupid assumptions. Now what would they do?

Harry guessed they would have to break in and steal the pictures instead. He suppressed a sigh. It wasn't so much the thought of having to commit a crime that bothered him, so much as having to wait until late evening or even night. With how busy the office was now there was no way they would be able to steal them.

Fifteen minutes later Harry was ready to give up and go home. They had already bothered the receptionist three times and every time she told them that “Ms. Skeeter is aware that you are here.” and left it at that. But enough was enough and Harry was going nuts. It didn't help that they had a huge mirror in the reception which Harry was insistently not looking at. But knowing it was there made his palms itch and he just knew that if he were to look he'd find Tom grinning out at him and his foolishness for standing by a mirror.

“Not looking, not looking, not looking,” he muttered to himself and Ron patted his back in sympathy. Harry wanted to get up and smash the mirror to a million pieces. Somehow he thought that it wouldn't be appreciated by the receptionist, but she was a right git either way, so what did it matter to him? Maybe he'd do it just before they left. Smash his stupid face in.

Harry growled, ready to tear into that bastard. In spite he looked into the mirror, wanting to see the demon's face as he smashed the mirror in. Wishing he could see the shock on his face as he did it.

Facing the mirror, Harry was sure he saw him for a second. That dark hair enveloping a pale face, those murderous eyes... They weren't red though. Harry blinked, staring at his own reflection as his heart beat a mile a minute. What...

“Oh, I'm ever so sorry for the wait boys!” The high-pitched and gushing voice made him snap his head around, coming face to face with Rita Skeeter herself. Still in his seat, Ron looked as if he had been struck by lightning.

“Things have been terribly busy around here you see. Things keep happening and they must be written about! Now, come come, this way to my office.”

Without waiting for an answer she turned and swept through the door. Harry and Ron found themselves running to catch up with her.

“Oh dear! You needn't run for silly old me. Though I can't say I'm not flattered.” She winked at them.

Ushering the boys into separate chairs Rita took a seat behind her desk. Despite all the hustle it was surprisingly clean and ordered.

“Now, let me guess. You,” she pointed to Ron, “must be Ronald. And you,” the finger moved, “would then be Harry. Is that right?” She sounded just as glad as before, but as Harry had a moment to really look at here he could see a sharp glint in her eyes. He felt like a deer in headlights.

“Yeah, that's right!” Ron agreed, bobbing his head. “Ni-nice to meet you Mrs. Skeeter.”

“Please, call me Rita. I've got a feeling that we'll all be good friends.” Even as she answered Ron's query her eyes never left Harry, seeming to take in every part of his feature. “After all, this isn't the first time Mr. Potter and I have met. Thanks to him I managed to make my career.”

Harry frowned. He hadn't ever met this boisterous woman before, had he? Surely he would have remembered.

Ron turned to Harry. “You've met?!”

Harry shook his head.

“Oh, you don't remember me? I have to say I'm a bit disappointed my dear. I always believed to be a memorable person. But then again,” her smile widened, “I guess you weren't feeling your best at the time. Too many reflective surfaces around, if I remember correctly.”

Harry stiffened, eyes that had been wandering snapping back to her face and the smug smile she was now wearing. Behind all that make-up it was difficult to measure her age, but there were hints of wrinkles she hadn't been able to cover up. Ten years ago... Harry could almost see it, see how she sneaked around the hospital after he was admitted. She wrote it.

“Ron.” Harry stood up and turned to the door. “We're leaving.”

“Aww, going so soon?” Harry could hear the pout in her voice. “But you haven't even had a chance to look at the pictures. After all, that's why you're here, isn't it? Worried your friend from hell is going to come back?”

That hit a nerve, in a lot of ways. Harry didn't want to spend another second in the presence of that woman but they needed to get the pictures, they needed to know what demons had been summoned so they could figure Tom's plan.

Harry clenched his fists and breathed carefully. He could, he could do this..!

“I can see the headline already. Back for another round- the Boy Who Lived takes up battle against his demon. The sales will go through the roof!”

Harry snapped. He turned around and had thrown himself at her in a flash, fingers tight around her throat and driving her backwards into the wall. As if from far away he could hear Ron yelling at him to stop, but it was irrelevant. This woman was a menace to society, twisting reality and had made him a laughing stock and an outcast. For years after he'd gone to the hospital he hadn't been able to show his face outside without people recognising and mocking him. It had died down now, and there was no way he was letting her do it again.

Hands were on his shoulders, pulling at his arms, but she was laughing even as he choked the life out of her like he was nothing but a joke. He shook the hands off but then they were back and strong arms wrapped themselves around his torso and arms, pulling him away from Skeeter, lifting him off her even.

Harry was dragged through the bustling office and then deposited on the street, anger rushing out him in one fell swoop. A second later Ron followed and there was a click as the door was locked.

“Shit, mate. Somehow I don't think Hermione will be happy with us.”

 

As things happen, Hermione being unhappy with them was Harry's least problem. He was silent during their journey back to Hogwarts, too busy mulling over what had happened to talk to Ron. It had been like he was possessed, that crazy anger tearing through his mind and blacking out reason. He had needed to feel blood on his hands.

Harry felt like he should feel horrible about it, but it didn't feel like they belonged to him. That, of course, was a completely different topic which he wasn't sure he wanted to visit. Because if it wasn't his emotions, then whose were they..?

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. They were his, surely? Most likely he was just experiencing some sort of shock and that was it.

His mind was made up by the time they got back and Harry had settled that it was shock and nothing else. Once he woke up the next morning things would make more sense. But as they opened the doors and entered the old castle and met Hermione, the matter was overshadowed by something much worse.

Hermione was hugging a tablet to her chest and her eyes were wide. She looked pale too and more worried than Harry had ever seen her. She wouldn't tell them anything in the hallway, just shaking her head when they asked her and leading them to the room of requirement. Once there, she promptly sat down.

“Harry, you should sit too.” As neither of the boys moved, she kept going. “Really, you should.”

Once the boys were seated she unclenched her arms and held out the tablet. It was open to the Daily Prophet's website, and it made Harry very nervous. The meeting had, to say the least, not gone well and he was well aware that Skeeter might use the meeting for something. But the idea that she would hadn't even entered his head until this moment. And so quickly as well...? She must have started writing it the second the boys were gone.

_The Boy Who Lived Returns in the wake of ritual murders_

_Dear readers, you might remember that 10 years ago yours truly wrote an article about a young boy who summoned a demon and caused his aunt and uncle to go mad? If you don't, a link to the original story can be found below. Take a moment to peruse it._

_Now following my exposé about these gruesome ritual murders young Harry Potter wasted no time in getting himself an interview with me, requesting information on these horrific murders. Luring his way in under the guise of being a capable student, Mr. Potter proceeded to question me, looking for copies of the pictures. For the project, of course._

_As I am amiably talking to him, explaining that we cannot give out such information he goes through a terrifying transformation. Gone is the seemingly hapless young man, replaced by a ferocious monster whose instincts are to kill. In a sudden flash yours truly finds herself pinned to the wall as the life is being slowly choked out of her. Only luck allowed for the security guards to overhear the ruckus and stop the beast from killing. This reporter can't help but wonder if this is the first time Mr. Potter has reacted with such violence._

_The reason for this, dear readers, is in his past. Let's not forget that the first time I came across Mr. Potter he was almost rabid, believing that he was being possessed by a demon and outrageously attacking nurses and doctors at the hospital he was admitted to. And even before that his aunt and uncle were found comatose. Their own son, Dudley, claiming that it had been Mr. Potter who did it._

_Shortly after my first article was released Mr. Potter disappeared from the hospital to an unknown location. No matter how much research was done no one could unearth him. Where he has been and what he has gone through is anyone's guess. But remember, dear readers, that he conveniently appeared again just after these occult murders took place and that he is still at large._

_Dear readers, keep your eyes peeled and beware._

Accompanying the article was a horrible picture of Harry. It was clearly taken from the security camera in the waiting room of the Daily Prophet and enlarged until the pixels made him look monstrous.

Harry found himself with nothing to say and at the time, no feelings about it at all. Once again Rita Skeeter had published a skewered version of what happened, twisting the situation and turning it into a lie. Once again his face was out in the open to be scrutinised by everyone. He wouldn't be able to show his face outside again.

His friends were equally silent. Hermione had opened her mouth and had seemed like she wanted to say something, but upon looking at Harry's face she kept silent. But really, Harry thought, what was there to say? Congrats for managing to ruin your life again? Maybe that was an accurate response. At least they were lucky she didn't mention the names of his friends.

Harry leaned back in the couch and closed his eyes. It wasn't late yet but he wanted the day to be over already so he could sleep.

The silence reigned in the small room for what seemed an age until Ron couldn't stand it anymore. His right leg had been jittering against the floor for the last couple of minutes and he got up with a sudden burst of speed.

“Argh! I'm going to do some research!”

Without waiting for an answer he marched out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Harry and Hermione stared dumbly at it. When Ron took the initiative to work things were well and truly fucked up.

Though in this case, perhaps he was right. The article was out there and there wasn't all that much they could do to stop it. The Daily Prophet was well known for disregarding any claims against them and had a good legal team at hand for any potential lawsuits. Neither Harry nor the order had that kind of money to spend on this. And even if they did win it would be ages from now, after which the situation would have got even more awareness from the public. So all they could really do now was to continue on with their original mission – sending Tom back to hell.

“It's as good idea as any,” Harry said and followed Ron to the library. Hermione joined him a second later.

 

They ended up spending hours in the library after that, scouring through book after book. There were old manuscripts that were barely legible and books in other languages. Latin and Greek, a couple in Egyptian. They didn't know what they contained, but the amount of books were limited and Ron thought that there might be different things to be found there.

Using basic translation programs Harry and Ron tried to judge the books from titles and chapter headings. There wasn't a lot of luck, but they did find a ritual in an old Egyptian book which was dangerously closed to falling apart. They were too tired to actually try translating it, but saved it in its own pile for further check-up.

In the early hours of the morning Hermione, eyes shot through with blood and drooping eyelids, ushered them all off to bed.

“We're not going to get any more work done now. Sleep.”

Harry fell into bed as soon as he was alone, barely taking the time to take his clothes off. His mind was reeling with strange words and symbols from the texts, but as he began to drift off the thoughts he had been keeping at bay started sneaking in. Meeting Rita Skeeter and that article. The strange anger, the rage.

His heart felt heavy and worn and as he fell asleep the dreams were dark and filled with a feeling of panic. Perhaps that was the reason that when Tom appeared in his dream, Harry wasn't surprised.

The demon leaned over Harry and blocked out his vision of a stormy sky from where he was lying on his bed on a field. Tom was smiling.

“Hello, Harry.” He held out a hand to help Harry up, and both were surprised when the young man took it. Up close Tom was looming over Harry. “I hear you've gone and got yourself famous. Being a deranged criminal would truly suit you.”

Harry shook his head. “You know it's bullshit just as well as I do.”

“It's rather embellished, I'm sure.” Tom's smile widened. “But there would be kernels of truth there. Tell me, Harry,” he leaned closer so that their faces were almost touching, “how did it feel to wrap your hands around her neck? To hear her desperate gurgles as she fought to breathe?”

Harry flinched, remembering thinking of nothing but the need for her to die.

“Isn't that feeling just the best? To know you're holding her life in your hand, to have that power!”

“You're wrong...” Harry said, but it felt weak and constricted by Tom's very presence. The demons was hovering over him, too close. He raised his hands to push him away but it was like moving a mountain. “Go away...”

“Oh, Harry,” and somehow Tom was even closer now, like he wanted to creep in under Harry's skin, “you know I'm right. And I'm not going anywhere. I went through such troubles to be able to visit you here. Are you saying you aren't pleased that I'm here?” Tom's hand crept into Harry's hair and grabbed, pulling his head back so they were eye to eye. His other hand was embracing the brunette tightly.

“Wait,” a shiver of fear ran down Harry's spine. “You're actually here, in my dream.”

Tom's smirk widened. “It's a silly indulgence, I admit. But being able to hold you like this...” the arm around Harry's waist tightened. “We will meet again, but until then this will have to tide me over.”

Harry was shaking his head and trying to get away, but like before it did no good. Tom tightened the grip in his hair and their mouths together in a surprisingly chaste kiss. He kissed his way down Harry's jaw and to his ear.

“If you're good for me Harry, I'll let you know something interesting.” He paused, sucking gently on Harry's earlobe. “I'll tell you the names of the demons that were summoned if you kiss me.”

“What..!? Why would you..?”

Harry could feel Tom smiling against his skin.

“It's nothing I mind you knowing. And I would so love to get a kiss from you... A proper one, mind.” He moved back, eyes roaming over Harry's face, seemingly taking pleasure in seeing the effect he had.

Harry swallowed, eyes finding Tom's lips on their own accord. It wouldn't be so bad, would it? After all it was just a kiss and they would get the information needed. The information he had stupidly lost them.

“Just one kiss, nothing more. And then you tell me all the names of the demons you had summoned.”

“I promise. One kiss against their names.”

“Okay. I agree. Now, then.. uh..”

Tom looked pleased. “Go ahead. Would it be better if I closed my eyes?” He did so without waiting for an answer.

Harry swallowed, face burning in sudden embarrassment. Taking a deep breath he closed his as well before moving forward, crashing their lips together. Seconds passed and Harry started pulling back and away, but the hand in his hair wouldn't let him.

The previously impassive Tom was suddenly moving, opening his mouth and licking Harry's lips, coaxing them to open. When Harry remained unresponsive and with his lips squeezed shut the demon withdrew slightly.

“I did say it needed to be a proper one, didn't I Harry?”

At Harry's nod he dove in again, and at his questing tongue Harry opened up. Suddenly pulling Harry's head towards him, Tom ravished his mouth and it was all the younger man could do to keep up.

An eternity later, Tom pulled back. Harry was breathing harshly but the demon seemed unaffected. Demons didn't breath, after all. But Tom radiated satisfaction.

“Okay, you got what you wanted. Now what's their names?”

“Straight to business. You certainly don't know how to savour a moment, Harry. But, very well, their names; Carrow, Greyback, Shunpike, Thickesse, Yaxley and Gibbon. For now.”

Harry hadn't been completely sure he would actually give the names, but now that he had he tried his best to memorise them. Carrow, Greyback, Shunpike, Thickesse, Yaxley, Gibbon... Some of them he recognised by name, he was even pretty sure he had at one time banished Shunpike back to the pit. Tom was making it hard for him, however, as he closed in again, nuzzling against Harry's neck and throat.

“Maybe I should hold you in the dream forever. That way you will never run away, never leave my grasp.” he whispered. “And once all my plans are complete I'll come and wake you up to my brand new world...”

Harry wasn't sure if he was meant to hear that, but the idea of it was terrifying. Forever trapped in a dream... He started struggling again, fighting to get free and then to his surprise it worked, Tom's arms shifted and loosened their grip.

“A pity...”

The surroundings and Tom were suddenly faded like an old photograph, and then a moment later Harry opened his eyes and stared into the darkness of his room.

“Carrow, Greyback, Shunpike, Thickse, Gibbon...” He whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing as Skeeter is fun!


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last chapter, I'm sorry for how long it took! It is pretty massive by my standards thought.
> 
> Please note that I've taken some artistic liberties with the placement of Hogwarts, it is not up north, but a bit outside of London. It'd be rather awkward to have to travel cross-country every time you needed to fight demons.
> 
> Also, this has not been beta read. If anyone wants to volunteer that'd be appreciated.
> 
> Finally, thank you all for the reviews!

Deep in the forest, Tom prepared a special summoning on his own. Dragging a useless human along by the hair he held him over the pentagram and letting the blood rain. Slightly unnecessary, but she would appreciate the effect. A slight shiver ran across the surface of the ground and Tom frowned in annoyance. These constant little reminders of what would happen if his plan failed. They were obnoxious.

  
  


Then the air boiled around the pentagram, and Tom's focus shifted. Intense waves of heat were emanating from the symbol. For a couple of moments Tom stood there, soaking in the heat. He had almost missed it.

  
  


For a long time yet, nothing happened. The air kept boiling and the trees that happened to be too close were singed and smoking from it. Tom mused it might cause a forest fire if left for too long. While it wouldn't hurt him, he didn't need any unnecessary attention. For now he wanted to be unknown. There would be time to strike fear into the hearts of man once all was complete.

  
  


Glaring at the pentagram Tom crooked an eyebrow in irritation. What was taking so long? Refusing to come when summoned, was she being petulant?

  
  


"Bellatrix... Come on out." He was probably being too indulgent with her, but she had been at his side for a long time and he found himself being strangely fond of her. She had been quite mad since childhood and it suited her. "You're being summoned last for a reason.”

  
  


The air shimmered over the pentagram and she started to take shape. Before being fully materialised she was on the move, throwing herself at his feet.

  
  


“Master!” She keened, falling to her knees before him and throwing her body down into the blood-soaked ground. “Punish me! I've questioned your thoughts and disobeyed you.” Bellatrix grovelled before him, rubbing herself in the dirt and the blood as she did so. It was filthy, and an unfortunate habit of hers.

  
  


Tom raised his hand and mumbled words beneath his breath. The air filled with her shrieks, half pained, half delighted. Bellatrix hated to disobey him, but she loved it when he punished her. Still, it didn't seem quite as intense as usual.. Frowning, the demon looked away from his subject and to his hand. It was shaking.

  
  


Tom clenched his fist, hating the sight of weakness. It had been the spell, he knew, and it was truly ironic. To think that a spell he had created himself would turn against him. That stupid phoenix feather... being in its bare presence was torture to him and touching it was a quite literal hell, but there could be no other ingredient for this spell. It had been specifically designed to summon Bellatrix, even before she was a demon. Changing a single thing would render it useless.

  
  


On the ground, Bellatrix was pulling herself up. She was shaking from the pain but a wide smile graced her features. Tom didn't spare her a second glance as he began to walk.

  
  


“Come.”

  
  


  
  


Harry had been debating with himself for half the morning before he finally told Ron and Hermione about his dream. Telling them felt extremely embarrassing, even though he left out specific parts of his dream. Like what the price had been for him to get the names and how close they had been standing. Even so, Hermione was giving him contemplative looks now, and he was certain she had found a million holes in his explanation that Tom was just bragging.

  
  


Still, she didn't pry and Harry was grateful for that.

  
  


Neither she nor Ron had any recollection of any of the names he mentioned, so Harry and Ron found themselves digging into a mountain of books, looking for any mention of these demons.  
"I don't get it," Ron huffed, "how can they be completely missing? You wouldn't expect you-know-who to bother with summon demons so weak they haven't been listed, but there's no trace of them." He turned to Harry. "I'm sorry mate, but I think he's pulling your leg."

  
  


Harry put his book down with a frown. Had he? It certainly wouldn't be beyond the bastard to use underhanded tricks, but outright lying to him didn't feel like Tom's game. The demon liked to play and lying would just make it too easy for him.

  
  


Hermione put her pen down and looked at them. Harry had thought she was completely absorbed in her calculations, but trust Hermione to multi-task.

  
  


"I agree with Ron. Even if the names aren't fake this seems to be a dead end. We are wasting time, which might be exactly what he wants us to do. So instead," she pointed to Harry, "you write down all data you have on you-know-who. And you," the finger shifted to Ron, "go find relevant books about him. I think I might have cracked this, but I would need to make it specific to the demon."

  
  


Ron looked like he wanted to complain, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Harry rose from his seat.

  
  


"I'm gonna get some books from my room." He left the library, not bothering to mention that Ron would almost certainly not find any books relating to Tom there. For all that Harry disliked research, he had spent a good amount of time over the years gathering information on Tom. Weaknesses and how one could protect themselves from him. There hadn't been much luck, Tom was either rarely summoned or his summoner died before they had a chance to figure out what made him tick.

  
  


But he wasn't completely clueless, Harry thought as he turned right instead of left and went down the stairs. He knew what wood could affect his powers (through his own research, mind) and what runes as well. At least, they had worked on the visions of the demon.

  
  


"Harry!" He heard Ron calling him, but didn't stop. Just another two stairs and he'd be by the entrance. "Harry, wait up! I need you to give me a clue where to begin. Harry!" There was the sound of running and then Ron was next to him. "Hey mate, what's up?"

  
  


Ron put a hand on his shoulder, meaning to spin him around to face him. Harry shook the grip loose, annoyed at the interruption. He was almost at the exit.

  
  


Holy water would also be useful, it was universal. "Hey, mate, seriously? What are you mad? Hey!" They definitively should avoid salt water, it seemed to oddly strengthen Tom.

  
  


"Seriously mate you're freaking me out."

  
  


There was that door now. Just getting through it and all would be fine. The door was made of oak and wouldn't stop Tom in the least. Harry reached for the handle but his arms were stuck in a vice. Turning his head he caught a glimpse of red hair. Ron. What the hell was he doing?

  
  


Harry growled, and fought to shake him off.

  
  


"Woah, what the heck. What's going on with you?"

  
  


Harry growled again. Red haired brats were not one of Tom's weaknesses. He would need to get rid of him or he would do nothing but hold him back. Shaking and slithering like an eel he tried to break loose, but the damn red head wasn't letting go.

  
  


"Christ what's up with you?! Come on, let's step away from the door, okay?"

  
  


He was dragged, step by step away from the exit. But he had been so close. So close...

  
  


Harry shook his head. His mind felt fuzzy and covered with cotton. What was he close to..?

 

It didn't matter, did it? He was almost there... but Ron was holding him, dragging him away. Why was he even down on the first floor?

  
  


As his friend dragged him, Harry let himself be pulled along. Little by little he felt like he was getting back to himself.

  
  


When his mind finally felt clear he spoke. "Ron, I think we might have a problem."

  
  


"Harry?" Ron squeaked from behind his head, "hey, are you feeling alright now?"

  
  


Harry nodded. "I think so. Though I'm not sure what happened, exactly."

  
  


"Geez mate, you tell me. All of a sudden you go off like a zombie, completely determined to leave Hogwarts. Including the growls and everything."

  
  


Harry winced. He could remember it, but distantly. Like he was watching a film about himself. While he wanted to say that the feeling was alien to him, it wasn't completely true. He had felt the same way in Skeeter's office.

  
  


He shivered. Feelings and actions that didn't belong to him? Tom appearing in his dream? It was clear that the demon was messing with him and that was terrifying. If he could be... coerced into just walking out, what were the limits of Tom's powers over him? And why did he have them? It didn't make any sense, this wasn't the power of any demon.

  
  


Harry shook his head. Hermione, she'd know. Of course she'd know. After assuring Ron that he wasn't going to make a dash for the doors, and Harry was pretty sure he wouldn't, the boys made their way upstairs.

  
  


Hermione was currently nowhere to be seen, but her things were still on the table. She was probably off hunting for more material. It reminded Harry he had never got to fetch his research, but he didn't quite feel up for it. His knees were shaking badly as he sank down on the bench.

  
  


Where was Hermione? Harry wanted to ask Ron to go look for her, but he didn't want to be left alone either. Whatever had happened to him had done it so discreetly he hadn't even felt the slightest hint of it until Ron was prodding and pushing him. All he had been able to think about was ingredients and all the while his body had moved him away. What if it happened again? It could be happening right now and he wouldn't know!

  
  


Violent shakes overtook Harry and he pulled his legs up, cradling them close to his chest. What should he do? What could he do? He needed Hermione, she could solve anything.

  
  


A hand touched his back carefully. "Hey Harry, are you okay?"

  
Harry shook his head. "Hermione," he said, "I need Hermione! She knows what to do. Hermione will help. There's nothing Hermione can't do."

  
  


Ron's face paled at the sight. Harry had never been the stablest kid on the block, but he had never seen him like this. The brunette was shivering and shaking and as he begged for Hermione his voice kept breaking.

  
  


"She's coming mate, any second now," Ron stroked his back gently. "Hermione will come back."

  
  


Harry's desperate gasps gave way to sobs, even thought he wasn't crying. He was running out of air, there wasn't enough oxygen in the room. Was that Tom too? Was he sucking the air out of Harry's lungs that very second?!

  
  


Ron was swearing behind him, calling out for Hermione without any luck. Harry seemed to be breaking out in a full-blown panic attack and his best friend was close to panicking as well. Ron didn't have any experience with panic attacks.

  
  


Or did he? A memory floated to the surface of Ginny freaking out, and his mother giving her a firm slap to the back of her head. It had calmed her down straight away, at least until she realised she had been hit. But it was worth a shot, right?

  
  


"Sorry Harry!" Ron said and slapped him hard on the cheek.

  
  


Harry froze for a couple of seconds, mind going completely blank. His breathing evened out and the shaking seemed to subside a bit. He looked at Ron. "Ouch."

  
  


"Geez mate! You gotta stop scaring me like this! I'm going grey and with my hair it'll show."

  
  


Harry blinked and then he was doubled over with laughter. "...Going grey..! You're concern is going grey..!" Ron joined him a second later, and they were still laughing when Hermione came back.

  
  


"Really, boys," she was frowning, "you're making so much noise. I'm surprised you haven't been kicked out yet."

  
  


"Aww, don't be such a party pooper, 'mione," Harry said, "we're just celebrating my unsuccessful escape attempt,"

  
  


"And averted panic attack!" Ron chimed in.

  
  


"What?" Hermione was frowning as she looked between the boys.

  
  


"You miss so much when your in the depths of the library 'mione."

  
  


The boys broke into laughter again. It was only minutes later that she had managed to calm them down enough to get them to fill her in. Her frown deepened. If Tom had managed to get such power over Harry then they were running out of time. They couldn't watch him 24/7 and Harry was key to banishing Tom, she was sure of it now.

  
  


Research had been going pretty slow (thought this was only by Hermione's standards), but Dumbledore's notes had helped tremendously. The man truly was a genius, and he documented correlations she hadn't even dreamed existed. For one, that the energy cost of dealing with demons, summoning or banishing, was much lower when there was an established connection between the demon and the caster. And Harry had a connection to the demon, and even more importantly, he had experienced first hand as you-know-who retreated to hell. That would also leave an unconscious imprint in Harry's mind of _where_ Tom was supposed to go. Both of these things would ease the transition greatly and they were things she was counting on. 

  
  


For this reason, you-know-who's interest in Harry was much worse than either boys expected. It had to be Harry who did the spell, or the energy cost would demand a sacrifice. If only she had more time, she could have looked this over more closely, found other loopholes and ways to do it...

  
  


No. She shook her head. There was no more time and they needed to do it this way. Time was of the essence now and she needed the information on the demon to make sure she could fine-tune their ritual of choice.

  
  


“Harry. I know this is hard for you, but I need to get all the information you have on you-know-who. His hold on you is a bad thing, but we need to stay focused. I need my calculations to be perfect. You can take Ron with you if you need your notes.”

  
  


As the boys left she refocused on her papers. Her heart was beating faster than normally, but she couldn't let herself be distracted. Once all of this was over then she could...  oh, she'd have the longest vacation. Somewhere warm. 

  
  


The words went out of focus but she blinked ferociously until her eyes went back to normal. The calculation was perfect. She couldn't see any fault with it, any reason why the energy transfer would fail. She still needed to apply it to the ritual, but it should work for any of them. Simply put, the energy cost would be lowered by a number of things, like the connection between the demon and caster, using the already weakened spot from where the demon was summoned, using materiel which the demon was sensitive to for the ritual and a number of other tiny details. Nothing would cause a big difference on their own, but together it would.

  
  


That wasn't the only thing either. Depending on how much the demon fought against the banishing it could change the energy used. So she and Ron would be used as lightning rods, re-directing the  demon's efforts elsewhere.  Being trapped in a circle of binding would help as well, of course. They were made to severely limit demon power. 

  
  


And that  w as the whole of it. And it had to be enough, because Harry would be casting this spell (because he would never let anyone else take on the task, but also because it had to be him) and Hermione wouldn't let him die. She couldn't let him die  because of a silly mistake on her side.

  
  


By the time the boys were back, Hermione had gone over her work several times already, forcing other thoughts away in order to focus on her task. And it was perfect, as far as she could tell. There was nothing wrong with the equations. All she needed now was the facts, so she could apply it to the spell.

  
  


“Okay Harry,” Hermione said even before Harry had the time to sit down, “tell me all you know about you-know-who.”

  
  


“'mione, give a bloke a chance to breathe!” Ron exclaimed, before taking in her pale and drawn face. As he noticed he snapped his mouth shut.

  
  


“It's fine, Ron,” Harry said in the silence, “better get it over with. So, what do you need to know?”

  
  


“Anything, everything. Obviously his weaknesses and strengths, so we can see what spells would work better, what magic he has been known to perform, specifics from recorded incidents where he has been summoned, his rank in hell... anything you can tell me will be helpful.”

  
  


“Okay.” Harry nodded. He had a notebook in his hands but he didn't even look at it as he began, instead favouring to stare off into the distance. “I didn't find any records of this, but from my own experience he has reacted to elder-wood. Sometimes it's been enough for me to hold it for him to disappear, or fade out. And there are runes... They come from a book, one of the only first-hand descriptions of him.” Harry handed over his elder-wood wand. “It's those ones, I drew it on elder-wood for as much protection as possible... I haven't had the chance to try them yet, but they were documented as useful by Dippet. Eh, the bloke who recorded meeting Tom. I'll just...” he reached over and picked up a book from the pile. It was a slender book, the cover worn and broken in places. “I'll read it for you, okay?”

  
  


Harry cleared his throat. “...today he appeared, a dreaded apparition. Such power haven't been seen by any of us alive in the order now. But the old books tell tales of terrible darkness, and I can't but feel the description is apt. Yet for anyone to have found it, it would have been him. The demon named himself Voldemort, and I can't but find the name fitting. 

  
  


But why did he come? Appeared from the shadows but left just as sudden, sparing us the need for an exorcism. One I fear we would not have survived.

  
  


Holly held the feather of a Phoenix in her hand, a powerful talisman. He flinched upon the sight of it, yet long moments went before he left. Not a finger did he move, the beast seemingly content with watching our fear.

  
  


The ending was peaceful, yet I feel myself shaken down to my soul. I pray we shall never see him again, lest all of us shall be dragged down to that fiery pit.

  
  


There are fates worse than death.”

  
  


Harry fell silent for a second. Hermione was taking notes of her own, pen scratching against the paper.

  
  


“So phoenix feather is a weakness as well, right?” Hermione asked, not taking her eyes off the paper. She didn't wait for Harry to confirm it. “What about the runes. You said he wrote them, right?”

  
  


“Yeah. He wrote them here, on the margin,” Harry pointed and Hermione looked up, eyes looking on them. They were scribbled next to the paragraph Harry had just read with the word “useful!” beside them. Hermione frowned.

  
  


“Hmm. This might not mean anything, Harry.”

  
  


“What? What do you mean?”

  
  


“The runes might be useless. Judging by the state of this book,” Hermione scanned the opened pages, seeing small notes and doodles covering the surface around the proper text, “they might not even be correlated to you-know-who. And he's not mentioning the runes in their encounter. I'd really like to use them but...”

  
  


“Oh.” Harry shook his head. She was right, like always. He had just assumed that they would be helpful since they were there, and to be honest, because they had the word useful written right next to them. But maybe the man was simply messy.

  
  


“So, anyway, Dippet's entry is the oldest mention I can find of Tom. There is a passage in here,” Harry lifted another book, this one even more tattered than the first, “it's from somewhere in the 16th century. But I'm not completely sure it is the same demon, it just describes a dark haired demon with red eyes and... charming looks. But there are no names.”

  
  


Hermione hummed again, lost in thought. There was something strange about Tom, something different from other demons. Or rather, several strange things. The fact that he referred to himself with a human name when talking to Harry, the lack of documentation, except for a diary entry where the demon did nothing but intimidate before disappearing, the powers he had shown.... Manipulating Harry's dreams and taking control of his body, it was like no demonic power she had heard of. Most of the time they could only use their powers for destruction, unless they were granting the wish of a human who summoned them. And somehow she didn't quite believe that this was anyone's wish...

  
  


Ron was looking through the piles of books Harry and he had brought down with them.

  
  


“Hey, mate, what is one?”

  
  


He held a black journal in his hand, clad in leather. The title was just as unreadable to Harry as it had been when he was a child. Harry felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of it. He had kept the book all of this time, of course, but had ignored its existence for so long now. He reached out and ripped it out of Ron's hand, letting the book fly across the room in his haste.

  
  


Ron and Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. Harry swallowed.

  
  


“Uhm. Eh. That... that's the book I used to summon him with.”

  
  


Ron looked slightly queasy at having touched it. Harry got up and fetched the book, gingerly carrying it between two fingers. “It's an overreaction, I know. But I had forgotten it was there.”

  
  


“No, mate, it's not an overreaction. I say we burn it right now!”

  
  


“You will do no such thing!” Hermione screeched and grabbed the book. “There could be useful clues in here. Harry, have you seen any?”

  
  


Harry shook his head. “I-uh-I haven't read it.”

  
  


She stared at him in wonder, but no one commented. They needed to know if there was anything of use in there, so without further ado Hermione flipped the book open. The result was disappointing. The book was written in a strange mix between English and a language that appeared to be nothing but scribbles, a made up language by the author, TMR? The only things she could read were basic instructions on how to summon a demon. Any exorcist knew these basics. There were pentagrams and pictures of demons, but none matched the description of you-know-who.

  
  


As she flipped through the book, something red caught her attention. The colour was smeared across the pages. A picture of a goblin and a pentagram. Had this been what Harry had tried to summon, all those years ago? Something must have gone terribly wrong, because it shouldn't be possible to summon such a strong demon by using such a basic pentagram. Why had it happened? Was it the time and place?

  
  


Giving up on that book, Hermione picked up Dippet's diary again. There might be something which Harry had missed. She scanned the pages, looking for anything which might be related. Her eye caught on a word, Tom. The name you-know-who had given Harry. Not unusual by any account, but...

  
  


_16_ _Th_ _of May,_ _1764_

  
  


_A new friend has come to join our forces. This sullen young boy, left orphaned since he was a baby. The caretakers whispered of witchcraft, and the Order sent out to look for demons. No such thing could be found, yet there was true fear in their eyes when looking at the boy. A social outcast, they seemed to fear the boy for his non-conformity._

  
  


_For alls sakes, I felt there was no option but to bring him along. Tom Marvolo Riddle is now the newest member of the Order of the Phoenix._

  
  


Tom Marvolo Riddle... the name rung a bell in the back of her mind, reminded her of something. But what..? She read on. While Dippet wasn't the greatest of writers the stories he told were interesting, tales of the how the order had operated in the past. Hermione would have loved to read it all through, but it wasn't the time.

  
  


The entries were rather disorganised, there could be months between entries only for there to be several days in order. And the notes themselves... scribbled entries and notes on the sides. A lot of the notes looked to be nothing but gibberish. Tom was mentioned a couple of times, the sporadic entries showing his growth. A prodigy, Dippet called him, having learnt the needed spells and rituals before his 15th birthday. And then there was an entry about his inventions. Tom had created a ritual for dream walking..!

  
  


The pieces fell into place. Hermione looked at the black journal. Tom Marvolo Riddle. TMR. Was it possible that you-know-who had been a human first? And not any human, a member of the Order. It wasn't unheard of that humans, dark sorcerers, would give up their humanity to gain more power, to become demons. And it would explain so much, explain why you-know-who seemed to have abilities beyond a demon. That meant he still had a soul, thought warped and distorted. It was horrifying. And this would throw a wrench in their plans. None of the rituals they had gathered had taken this into account.

  
  


Groaning, Hermione lowered her head into her hands. Now what were they going to do? The equation – the equation was fine. She could redo it now that she had the basics down, but it would be useless without a spell.

  
  


As soon as her head had landed in her hands, the boys attention had been on her.

  
  


“Hermione?” Harry said, “Did you figure something out?”  
  
  


She nodded. “Look at this.” Flipping back to the first entry of Tom she put the book down in front of them, pointing to the name.

  
  


“Tom Marvolo Riddle..?” Ron said, while Harry paled. She wasn't sure if it was the bare mention of the name that did it, or if seeing her point it out connected the dots. Hermione took the journal and put it in front of them as well, pointing out the three letters.

  
  


“I think TMR stands for Tom Marvolo Riddle. In Dippet's collections he writes about this child, and as it progresses he turns out to be a right genius. Creating his own spells, has a lot of ambition. One of the spells actually described is the power to enter someone's dreams. And this journal there are notes for spells I can't recognise. And, most importantly, Harry summoned you-know-who with a spell from this journal. But it was from a basic pentagram that should never have been able to connect to him. Instead it must have been the journal's influence, the connection of something you-know-who owned that affected it. Also Harry has never found clear signs of his existence before this.

  
  


I think you-know-who is a dark sorcerer who turned into a demon. And.. and this changes how we can look at it. Normal rituals is not going to cinch it, not if we want to be as sure as possible that the caster won't die from it. We need a ritual against sorcerers.”  
  
  


Ron's mouth was gaping open as he processed what she said. Harry was pale and sunk into himself. Hermione wondered if he had ever suspected this, or if the revelation was a great shock to him. The library was silent for minutes, until Ron closed his jaw with a clack.

  
  


“So, this is not good then.” The red-head said. “I've never even heard of rituals to banish sorcerers to hell. Barely even heard about sorcerers joining hell.”

  
  


“It's not so common anymore. But in a lot of the old text there are mentions of it being a possibility, but none seems to have done it since the time of ancient Egypt. Well, until this point apparently.”

  
  


“Oh god,” Ron said, “Then that means we need to hit those books? I don't need to remind you I never learned Egyptian, right?”

  
  


Hermione's eyes lit up. Of course this would help them narrow it down, newer manuscripts wouldn't be much use. She couldn't believe she hadn't through of that fact before. There section of manuscripts from back then were very limited...

  
  


Harry moving broke her thoughts. He dove into the pile of collected books which contained rituals and dug through it, making a real mess until he got to one at the very bottom. It looked close to falling apart and Hermione was aghast at Harry's handling of it.

  
  


“There!” he said, triumphantly. “We found this ritual way back, I'm not even sure how it ended up in our piles, but it's old and written with in Arabic but the actual ritual is in hieroglyphs. The summary for it translated to something like 'magic desummon ritual sorcerer' – it doesn't quite translate I guess but it could be it! I didn't think of it at the time, but the word sorcerer was in there.”

  
  


Could it be it? The solution to a problem they hadn't even known they had had been in their grasp all along. No, Hermione didn't dare hoping. The automatic translation program was awful and this could be completely out of context. She wouldn't hope until they had a proper translator taking a look at it.

  
  


  
  


As it turned out, the order knew of a translator that even read hieroglyphs. His name was Funsani Hakim. Being from Egypt originally, he was now living in London and working for the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology. After a quick call he had agreed to see them the very next day.

  
  


“The order did him a favour, a couple of years back.” Hermione explained. “I don't know what exactly, but Percy said he had been listed as an asset ever since.”

  
  


“What, he didn't know?” Ron asked. “I bet he could find out, but he's too much of a stick-in-the-mud to do so.”

  
  


Hermione frowned. “Don't be rude, Ron. He did as a matter of fact know, but as Mr. Hakim had asked for privacy in the matter he wouldn't tell me.”

  
  


“He's such a goody-goody! Ron exclaimed.

  
  


Hermione sniffed. “I happen to think having some integrity is a good thing, maybe you could learn something from it.”

  
  


“What..!” Ron stared after her as she left. “Harry, was that aimed at me?”

  
  


Harry smirked. He wondered if Ron even realised how he was acting, or how he always ended up bad-mouthing men Hermione gave the slightest of notice.

  
  


“Not you too mate! What did I ever do?”

  
  


“Nothing Ron, nothing at all. Come on, let's play some chess. We haven't been able to do so in forever!”

  
  


Ron beamed at him. “Alright! So you're ready to get you arse kicked?!”

  
  


Harry was, even if he grimaced. Playing against Ron always demanded his full focus or the red-head would decimate him within the first five moves. Harry wasn't sure how Ron had gotten so good at chess, but for now he was really grateful. He would be able to lay his focus completely on the game and escape, just for a little while.

  
  


  
  


Pettigrew walked silently into the room, careful not to wake the boys sleeping haphazardly against the table. He couldn't believe they would let themselves fall asleep out there... Harry especially, he looked so defenceless...

  
  


He shivered as the presence which never truly left him woke up and properly paid attention. The shivers worsened as he felt it reach out and take control of his body. The feeling made him feel sick for a moment and then his consciousness was gone.

  
  


Pettigrew's hand reached out to touch Harry's head, sweeping his hair back. It shivered, but for a different reason.

  
  


“Oh, Harry....” He truly was defenceless. It would be so easy to just reach out and grab him, spirit him away in the middle of the night. Harry's friends would know who took him, of course, but they wouldn't be able to find him. His fingers tightened in the black curls for a second and Harry frowned in his sleep. He should bring him now..!

  
  


But no. Things weren't ready yet, and he had promised Harry that they would play a game. Simply stealing him away in the night felt like cheating. And he needed Pettigrew to stay there, for the next step of his plan. Harry would be his in due time. He ran his hand through the locks again, gently caressing the soft skin of Harry's ear and cheek. The brunette moaned softly in his sleep. Pettigrew's eyes narrowed.

  
  


  
  


“I can't believe you guys!”

  
  


Harry jolted awake at the sudden yell. His back felt stiff and there was numb pain on his cheek. Looking around blearily he caught sight of a very annoyed Hermione.

  
  


“...wha? Whassa matter...?” someone spoke close by. Something red flashed by Harry's vision. Ron. Why was Ron in his bedroom? And... Harry looked down. Why was he sleeping against a chessboard?

  
  


“What's the matter?! What's THE MATTER?!” Hermione shrieked and Harry covered his ears with a groan. It was too early for this... “I left you boys last night in good faith that you would go to bed properly, like adults. You said you would just play another game. And then I come down to find you...” she made a sharp gesture towards the boys and the chessboard. “... I find you fell asleep here like a couple of kids!”

  
  


Ron was shaking his head and putting it back to the board, seemingly content to go right back to sleep. Now that Harry had woken up he couldn't do it. Everything hurt too much. Even so, this had been the most restful night he had had for a while now. There was a bare recollection of a hand running through his hair. But no, that probably hadn't happened. Harry blinked sleepily at Hermione.

  
  


“No!” Their friend marched over and pulled sharply at Ron's collar. “Wake up! We need to go see Mr. Hakim.” Ron gurgled in response and Hermione let him go. “Go get ready. I'll wait for you in the great hall.”

  
  


“Man,” Ron said after he had recovered and she had left the room, “I think we're being scared of the wrong person. You-know-who's got nothing on her.”

  
  


Harry laughed, but the sound caught in his throat as his eyes caught on a thick parchment with his name on it. It was written in a fine cursive, a handwriting too precise to belong to this era. A second passed while he tried to convince himself that it could have been written by a different person, Dumbledore perhaps, but the certainty he felt wouldn't go away. And there was an easy way to find out, wasn't there.

  
  


He reached out with a hand that was only shaking a little and took the parchment. The note inside wasn't long and there was no mistaking that it was from Tom.

  
  


_Dear Harry,_

  
  


_I would have wished that I had come upon you while awake, but circumstances wouldn't have it. Either way I had been forced to make use of a less than savoury host, so perhaps it was a good thing. Speaking of good things, did you know that your hair is as soft as silk? I look forward to the day I can run my hand through it again. For now I will have to settle for the memory._

  
  


_I hope you will have the opportunity to come visit. I'm staying in this nostalgic little house out in Surrey – maybe you remember it? You simply must drop by._

  
  


_Love,_

_Tom_

  
  


What. Harry read the letter, and then he read through it again. Tom had been there, in the night? Well, not in person, but still. Shivers ran down his spine and he couldn't help but feel as if he was being watched. Tom had been there and he had touched him. That soothing feeling of fingers carding through his hair had been Tom. He had been there.

  
  


The letter was plucked from his fingers and Harry didn't resist. Maybe Ron could make sense of it and tell him that it didn't mean that Tom had been there while Harry was sleeping and had run his fingers through Harry's hair without him waking up. That the demon had been there god knows how long and just watched him.

  
  


Ron did not tell him otherwise. He read the letter, going paler and paler as he did so. And then he looked around, as if he was worried Tom was still there. Harry knew there was no way he was, or they wouldn't be sitting there so peacefully. In fact, he was amazed they had made it through the night without disturbance. What else had Tom done while he was there? Harry shuddered.

  
  


“Harry..” Ron said, tentatively. “This address... didn't you use to live in Surrey?”

  
  


He nodded, slowly. He had lived there, ages ago. In a two-storey building in Little Whinging, with his aunt and uncle and cousin. Harry snatched the letter back, reading the final sentence again. A nostalgic little house – there was no other possibility. The demon had taken up residence in Harry's childhood house. The thought was not a nice one. He had never wanted to go back there, and he certainly didn't want to go back there knowing who would welcome him with open arms.

  
  


“This is not good.”

  
  


“Yeah, you can tell me about it mate! How the heck are we supposed to get that demon to the graveyard? It's miles away!”

  
  


Great, Harry thought, another problem. Like they didn't have enough of those already.

  
  


As it turned out, the one who could solve all of the problems appeared in the doorway some time later, after waiting impatiently for the boys.

  
  


“Why are you still here?! I thought I told you to meet me downstairs.” Hermione said, glaring at them.

  
  


Ron just held the letter out to her. Hermione took it and read it, frowning. She kept staring at the parchment for a long minute before sighing and lowering the paper.

  
  


“This changes nothing. In fact, it might even make things easier for us.”

  
  


“What?!” Ron and Harry shouted in unison. Hermione must have lost her wits, how could she say this was nothing? Tom had been in the room while they were sleeping. The damn demon could have done anything.

  
  


“Listen to me,” Hermione said and raised raised an eyebrow in annoyance as the boys immediately started talking, “ _Listen_ to me I said. I understand that him being here last night was traumatic for you, but this _is_ a good thing. Now we know exactly where to find him, so we can plan. Remember, just the other day we were wondering how to find him. And now he's handed us his location on a silver platter.”

  
  


Harry shook his head. “That might be true and all, but he was _here._ In this very room. None of us woke up and he could have done anything to us. Some damn spell of his nearly made me run straight out of here, and that was from a distance. He could have done _anything_.”

  
  


Hermione shook her head. “Yes, and he could have also decided to kidnap you right there and then. But you're still here, and in one piece. Or is either of you feeling strange?” The boys shook their heads. “And just to make you feel extra sure, we can have madame Pomfrey cast a residue spell on you. If he did anything she'll be able to tell.”

  
  


Said and done. Hermione marched the boys out of the common room and down to the sickbay. Madame Pomfrey barely even needed an explanation of why they wanted the check-up: it was a normal enough scenario at the Order. They told her that Ron and Harry had faced a necromancer and wanted to be sure there was no spell cast on them. Hermione slipped out while they did that, promising to meet them in the great hall some time later.

  
  


She was waiting for them when they were finally done.

  
  


“There you are! Come on, let's go. I packed a couple of sandwiches for you, but you'll have to eat on the way.” With that she turned and marched away, the boys trooping after her.

  
  


  
  


“Mr. Hakim, thank you so much for seeing us.” Hermione said as she shook the scholar's hand. “I'm sorry for the short notice.”

  
  


He gave her a warm smile. “Oh it's no trouble at all, miss Granger. The Order did a huge favour for me, and I'm always happy to repay the favour any way I can.” Hakim shook hands with Ron and Harry as well. “Now, what do you say we go to my office to have a look at that document?”

  
  


He led the way through the winding corridors. The building was larger than expected, and walking to his office, with Hermione walking up front with Hakim and Ron striding silently next to him, Harry found himself wondering what the Order had done for the man. Most people they rescued had already had family or friends killed, but it wasn't usually kept a secret. Embarrassment or guilt was the only reasons Harry could think of where you wanted it to be hidden. He wondered if Mr. Hakim himself had summoned a demon and had to be saved from it. Maybe he didn't want all of the order to know for fear that they would treat him differently then.

  
  


But it didn't matter. Even if he had made a big mistake, Harry knew how that felt. To be so angry you wanted people to hurt and to be in pain. To stop thinking, just long enough that you perform the deed. The guilt which would never stop eating you alive. Harry never went, but he knew his aunt and uncle were still in the hospital, suffering from a malady they would never be able to treat. Not even the Order had any clue.

  
  


As they reached Hakim's office and he asked them to sit down, Harry forced his mind back to the matter at hand.

  
  


“Mr. Hakim,” Hermione said, “Thank you so much for seeing us. We won't take up too much of your time, but it is rather urgent.” She held out the spell. “From what we understand you can read hieroglyphs, and we need this translated. Do you think you can help?”

  
  


He took the scanned copy from her and put on a pair of reading glasses. “Let me see...” looking at the page, the man mumbled to himself as he read the content. His brows furrowed.

  
  


“This is a strong spell, for vanquishing fallen humans. Quite dangerous. I wouldn't recommend its use.”

  
  


Fallen humans. It that had to be the category Tom fell into. Harry couldn't believe that they had stumbled on the correct spell just like that. What were the odds of that happening?

  
  


Hermione nodded. “We know it will have consequences. But it needs to be strong. Can you tell us what will happen by using it?”

  
  


“It says here, those who use the spell will lose their energy, sucked away as the spell continues – so the longer you use it, the worse it will be. It will be painful for the caster as well, its a reflection to how the demon feels.”

  
  


Ron paled and Harry swallowed nervously. Still, he hadn't said death. Harry could handle a bit of pain.

  
  


“What about... death?” Harry asked.

  
  


Hakim paled, looking nervous. He stared at the paper again. “...It doesn't say anything about it.”

  
  


“You're sure?” Hermione pushed. It was important, otherwise her calculations might not be correct.

  
  


He nodded.

  
  


“Well, that's the first good news we've had in a while, no isn't it?” Hermione said and smiled, thought it looked tense. “Please, Mr. Hakim, could you translate the spell in its entirely for us? As well as a transliteration of how the words are spoken?”

  
  


“Are you sure it must be this spell?”

  
  


They all nodded. There was no time to find another spell and to have it translated. The pain sounded bad, as did being drained by energy, but it wasn't permanent. And Hermione's calculations for lessening the strain would be even more helpful.

  
  


The trio thanked him and left, after agreeing that Hakim would email them his translations that very night. Once the door had closed behind them a short figure entered through a door in the back of the room.

  
  


“Well done.”

  
  


Hakim shook his head. He was pale and his palms were damp. “This will kill them! Is there no other way I can repay you?!”

  
  


“K-keep to our deal, Mr. Hakim, and I'll ask nothing else. What happens to them isn't your bother.”

  
  


  
  


“Now that that's done,” Hermione said as they headed back to Hogwarts, “I think it might be about time to check in with Neville and see what he has found.”

  
  


“Neville?” Harry asked, “What is he doing?”

  
  


“Oh.” Hermione cast a quick glance at Harry before getting her eyes back to the road. She coloured slightly. “He's out keeping watch. On you-know-who.”

  
  


“WHAT?!” Harry thundered, “Since when?!”

  
  


“Since I asked him to go this morning. When you were in the sick-bay.”

  
  


“Why would you do that?” Harry was astonished, “Do you even realise the danger you put him into!?”

  
  


“Of course I know the risks, Harry! But now that we got this advantage we can't let it go to waste. You-know-who doesn't know who Neville are, he's always very discreet and goes unnoticed. The demon won't even give him a second glance. But we need more information and this is our chance to!”

  
  


“I still can't believe you risked Neville of all people. Neville!” Harry shouted. In the back, Ron was squirming and looking decidedly uncomfortable. “You know how much he has suffered already!”

  
  


“I know his history, Harry! But this is his job! And with Tom not knowing who he is, he takes no more risk than usual. I gave him strict instructions to keep his distance, Neville won't endanger himself.”

  
  


Harry frowned. “Even so! I don't like it. Tom is not your average demon and I know he will hurt anyone that goes near there.”

  
  


“Only if he knows about him, Harry. Remember, there have been no news of manslaughter by dozens. For whatever reason You-know-who is keeping his killing to a minimum. He won't kill of random pedestrians!”

  
  


“Okay.” Harry grudgingly conceded, “But if there is the slightest hint of danger when we talk to Neville now, we will pull him back.”

  
  


Hermione nodded. “Of course we will!”

  
  


As it turned out, Neville was fine. “This might actually be one of the most boring stake-outs I've been on.” He said as a way of status report. “There are maybe four persons who have come and gone, each staying just a few minutes before leaving again. All the curtains are drawn so I can't see anyone in the house except for silhouettes. No sign of that dark haired man you described, Hermione.”

  
  


“So all is calm then, Neville?” Harry asked. “You're not sensing any ill intent?”

  
  


“Ill intent? None at all. If it hadn't been Hermione who asked me here, I would’ve thought this was a joke. Can't even sense a demon in there.”

  
  


The trio looked at each other, concerned. Neville should be able to feel the demons presence, and the fact that he didn't wasn't encouraging. Maybe he wasn't even there? But if he wasn't then where?

  
  


“Okay Neville, thanks. Could you still keep watch for a while longer? We just need to be sure.” Hermione said.

  
  


“Sure, Hermione.”

  
  


“Neville, make sure you stay safe!” Harry cautioned. “Call me if there is any sign of trouble, and don't take any unnecessary risks!”

  
  


“Will do, Harry!” Neville said, “Bye for now.”  
  
  


Silence reigned for a while after. Hermione was the one to break it.

  
  


“See Harry, he's safe. You can relax a little.”

  
  


But that wasn't possible. Harry didn't think he'd be able to relax until Tom was sent back to hell and all of this was over. Until the then danger was just too much. Over the last couple of days Tom had shown that he could reach Harry in a multitude of ways, two of which where he didn't even need to be there physically. If he relaxed now, what would stop him from ending up in the demon's grip? He couldn't even trust that all emotions were his own.

  
  


And then there was the thing with Neville. While he was happy that his friend was safe, that could change at any time. They didn't know the first thing about the extent of Tom's powers. Maybe he already knew about Neville and was just biding his time. Part of him itched to pick up his phone and call him back, telling him to abandon mission. But they needed a scout, and Neville was good at it. It was his job. He needed to trust in Neville.

  
  


“What's the plan now, 'mione?” Ron asked. He looked as antsy as Harry felt.

  
  


“Now we wait. I need to get the translation first so I can prepare the spell for Harry, and until that is done we can't go out to challenge You-know-who.”  
  
  


“But we can't just sit here!” Harry said, getting up from his chair and pacing the room. “It will drive me nuts!”

  
  


Ron nodded his agreement.

  
  


“Then go down and practice some spells and think about how we can get You-know-who back to the graveyard. That's what I'll do.”

  
  


“Okay.”

  
  


The boys shuffled out of the room and down the stairs to the exercise areas. One of the rooms was taken up by Snape yelling at some unfortunate trainee, and they backed out of there quickly. While being wailed at by Snape certainly would take their mind of things, neither wanted to experience it more than needed. A couple of doors down they found an empty room and set about to spar.

  
  


By evening, Hermione had got a hold of the translation and was busily working on making the calculations perfect. Since they boys hadn't come up with any viable plans for luring Tom over, except for Ron's joke that they should tie Harry up and dangle him from a gravestone as bait, Hermione told them to get to bed. They were interrupting her work for nonsense, she said.

  
  


Said and done, they headed of to bed. In order to stop eventual attempts of Riddle trying to spirit Harry away, they locked the door to Harry's room and left Ron in charge of the key. This way he would have nowhere to go if he did get possessed. The door was the only way out and the room was on the 6th floor. Tom wanted Harry alive, so they really hoped he wouldn't try something dangerous like jumping out the window. Just to be sure, Harry made sure they were closed and locked as well.

  
  


The rest of the night was torture to Harry. He laid down on the bed, but even though he was tired from their sparring he couldn't fall asleep. There was just too much going on, too many risks. And he was worried for Neville. Despite Hermione's reassuring words and the man's own proclamation that there was nothing to be worried about, a foreboding was filling Harry. He had lived with the haunted images of Tom appearing everywhere, he knew the tenacity of the man. If he had given Harry an open invitation to his lair, there was no way he wouldn't be carefully monitoring the area. The demon wasn't stupid.

  
  


As if his thoughts were a prediction, Harry's phone buzzed just a couple of hours after he had gone to bed. It was Neville. Why would he call at this hour? Harry's stomach sank.

  
  


“Neville?” He asked.

  
  


There was a moment of silence, filled with tense anticipation.

  
  


“Hello Harry.” The voice was smooth, sophisticated, definitively not Neville. “I'm afraid your friend is a bit... preoccupied at the moment.”

  
  


“Tom!” Harry growled and there was a chuckle from the other end.

  
  


“Such spite, dear boy... One could almost think you felt something for me. Still, I know that can't be true, after all, you cruelly rejected my invitation.”

  
  


“Tom, let him go! He means nothing to you, he's not a threat!”

  
  


“No, I should think not...” The voice on the other end sounded smug. “Had he been a threat, I doubt that we'd be talking right now.”

  
  


“So let him go!”

  
  


“Ah...” Was the bastard smirking on the other end of the line? Harry could feel the smirk in his voice. “I'd love to do as you ask but I believe dear Neville might have some issues walking right now. You'll be a good friend and come pick him up, right?” A pause, where Harry's mind felt like it was imploding on itself. He had hurt Neville! “After all, while I do love to hear your voice, seeing you would be even better. I have been patient for a long time now, and I believe it's time I got my reward, don't you?”

  
  


“Tom!” Harry roared, “If you have killed him, I swear I'll..!”

  
  


“Kill? No, the boy is quite alive, merely a broken bone or two. But I can't guarantee it'll stay that way forever. My dear Bellatrix is awfully excitable, and it seems this boy brings back memories for her. Apparently she goes way back with his parents.”

  
  


Harry gasped. Neville's parents had been a part of the order for years, before they had succumbed at the hands of a demon. His friend never talked about it himself, but they said their deaths had been slow as the demon dragged it out for hours. Neville had never been the same after.

  
  


“If I were you, darling, I'd make sure to get here soon. Oh, and don't send any replacements.”

  
  


The line went dead. Harry held the phone in front of his face, staring at it incredulously. Then he dialled Neville back, but was greeted by nothing but the voice mail. That bastard had turned the phone off. Shit! Harry swore to himself, throwing his phone on the bed in his anger. That bastard! He couldn't let him take Neville, couldn't let him hurt him! If only they hadn't asked the boy to go...

  
  


Harry shook his head. It was too late now, he needed to go.

  
  


Throwing on some clothes he headed straight for the door and ran into a full stop. The door didn't budge, no matter how much he turned the handle. And the key wasn't in the lock. Where was the key?! Ron had it. To ensure that Harry couldn’t go to Tom. Harry bit down a string of swearwords. Of all the times...!

  
  


Grabbing the phone he hurriedly called his friend. One ring passed, two, three, four, five, and no answer. His best friend sleeping was dead to the world. He called again, still no answer.

  
  


“Hell Ron!” Harry yelled to the dial tone, “I don't have the time for this!”

  
  


Switching gears he found a different number and dialled it. Hermione picked up on the second ring. She sounded dazed, but Harry couldn't worry about that.

  
  


“Hermione! Go and wake Ron up, you need to let me out of here!”

  
  


“What? Harry, what's the matter?”

  
  


“There's no time Hermione! That bastard's got Neville!”

  
  


She gasped. “Harry, wait there and don't do anything stupid! I'll get Ron.”

  
  


Hermione ended the call and left Harry steaming in his own fumes. Wait there Harry, don't do anything stupid. Like he could go anywhere! In anger he kicked at the door, causing nothing but pain shooting through his leg. God, why were they so slow..?!

  
  


It seemed an eternity before Harry heard the tell-tale sound of a key in a lock and the door swung open. Hermione and Ron were both outside, but as Harry attempted to rush out they stopped him and went in instead. Ron pushing him back as Hermione closed and locked the door again.

  
  


“What are you doing?!” Harry growled.

  
  


“Harry, you need to calm down! This is exactly what you-know-who wants. For you to get into a frenzy and run there unprepared. But we need to be smart about this.”

  
  


“Come on mate, take a couple of deep breaths for me.” Ron said and Harry's attention snapped to him. He noticed how pale the other was, the freckles standing out more than ever. He closed his eyes, swallowing down the panic with a few deep breaths.

  
  


“Okay, I'm okay.” Harry let himself get led back to the bed and sit down on it.

  
  


“Good. We need to go at this with a plan. Now, I have translated the spell, and you need to learn it by heart, Harry. Thankfully it's not very long.” Hermione handed him a paper. Strange words that Harry barely could enunciate were written there. “I have another copy, but the best thing is if you know them, we can't count on you holding on to the paper during the fight.”

  
  


“Now, I also have a plan, of sorts. It's a lot riskier than I would have liked and if we had any other choice I'd never ask this of you Harry but...”

  
  


“But we don't have time to come up with anything else, not if we want to save Neville.” Harry finished the sentence.

  
  


Hermione nodded with a pained look on her face. “Right, so what I suggest is the following...”  
  
  


Harry swallowed as she finished outlining the plan to him. It was properly risky, so many things could go wrong. And if he wasn't fast enough everything would be at a loss.

  
  


“Let's do it.” His friends faced him, one looking incredulous and the other grateful.

  
  


“Harry, you can't be serious! It's suicidal! I love Neville like a brother but there has to be a better way.”

  
  


“But there isn't,” Harry argued. “Or there might be, but we don't have the time to think of it. I know you're worried Ron, but I can do this. I have to believe I can succeed.”

  
  


Ron opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shook his head and Harry could tell he wanted to keep arguing but stopped himself.

  
  


“Thank you, Harry.” Hermione said, “And I'm sorry for pushing this on you.” She came forward and embraced him in a tight hug. “I don't want anything bad to happen to you! But if anyone can succeed, it will be you.”  
  
  


Harry hugged her back. “Thanks, 'mione.”

  
  


They let go and she was back to business again. “Okay, Harry, you stay here just a little longer. Practise the spell. I'll get you a ride but you need to give me and Ron some time to set everything up.”

  
  


Harry nodded, and then he was wrapped in another hug, this time it was Ron. The gangly red-head almost pulled him off the bed with the force of it and Harry held fast to him. “Imagine what a hero you'll be when this succeeds...”

  
  


Then he let go and Harry watched Hermione and Ron leave the room. He set about to study the strange words.

  
  


  
  


An hour later Harry sat in the back of a car, feeling decidedly nervous. He was fiddling with the chain around his neck and mumbling the words of the spell. It was almost time to face Tom, time to end all of this. They had one chance at defeating the demon, one chance to save Neville (and the world, really). As the car slowed to a halt a couple of blocks away from Harry's childhood home he swallowed deeply and let go of the chain, hiding it securely beneath his shirt.

  
  


Silently, Harry stepped out of the car and the driver sped away. That was for the best.

  
  


Even thought he hadn't been there for years, the neighbourhood of Little Whinging was familiar to him. He knew this street and could probably find his way to the house in complete darkness. Right now his path was illuminated by street-lights evenly placed along the street, and as he walked on Harry could sense other presences hiding in the shadows, following him on his path. But none attacked and he didn't expect them to. Tom already knew he was coming.

  
  


The house itself was eerily familiar, with the same neat garden and perfectly painted façade. Whoever had moved in after were just as meticulous as Petunia had been. The place felt empty and abandoned, no one came to meet him as he approached. But even thought he couldn't feel Tom's presence, he knew he had to be here. As he was standing there, a strange ripple came from the house worked it's way across the ground, across the air, even. Harry gasped as it went past him, for a second making his skin burn. Then it passed and it was as if it had never been. It had to have been some sort of strange demon magic.

  
  


Gathering his guts, Harry pushed open the garden gate and proceeded forwards, entering the house without even knocking. The door opened silently, revealing an empty hallway. There was an old grandfather clock to his right, the pendulum being the only thing to disturb the silence. Was he wrong...?

  
  


Harry stepped over the threshold and the house sprung to life around him. Lights went on and a fire flared to life in the empty fireplace. The old clock chimed, even thought Harry was pretty sure it wasn't full hour. In the kitchen and living-room demons suddenly appeared, causing adrenaline to rush through his veins.

  
  


“Welcome back, Harry!” Tom said from the top of the stairs, bringing Harry's attention to him. He slowly began to walk down and the brunette couldn't help but take a step back, away from him. Behind Harry, the door slammed shut, effectively trapping him. “We have so much catching up to do.”

  
  


Tom was almost down now, a few more steps and he'd be in touching range. But there was no sight of Neville. He needed to get a hold of his friend.

  
  


“Where's Neville?!” Harry shouted, voice wavering slightly. “You promised me he was alright!”

  
  


Tom paused in his descent. “As he is. Bellatrix!”

  
  


From the living-room a woman came out, dragging Neville. He wasn't moving. The woman lifted him easily – demon strength – and held him out in front of her.

  
  


“Neville!” Harry gasped and made to move toward him. A gust of wind suddenly blew, stopping him in his tracks. On the stairs, Tom had his eyebrow cocked at Harry. “I need to see you kept your promise.” Harry glared.

  
  


“And what, pray tell, would stop you from simply grabbing him and getting out of here?”

  
  


“I won't! I promise I won't!” Harry threw his hands out in exasperation. “Let me check on him!”  
  
  


“But I have already said that he's alright, _Harry_ ,” The name was practically purred, “If you can't take my word for it, how could I ever trust yours?”

  
  


Harry shook his head, looking desperately at his friends. It wasn't by much, but he could see the rise and fall of his chest. “O-okay! I trust you're telling the truth! But you have to let me get him back so he can get medical care.”

  
  


“That's a fair thing to ask for, Harry,” Tom was walking down again. “But I'm afraid I can't let you leave.” He reached the end of the stairs and stood right in front of him, close enough that Harry could touch him if he reached out.

  
  


“Yeah, I get that.” Harry said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “But you will let me send him back?” He put his hand in a pocket and pulled out a transportation charm. “Wake him up and have him use this,” he paused, “Please.”

  
  


The demon's eyes narrowed in amusement. He plucked the charm out of Harry's fingers, letting his hand linger when they touched. “As you wish.” With a swift movement the charm was passed to Bellatrix who let go of Neville, only to slap him in the face.

  
  


“Wakey, wakey little human. It's time to go home.” As Neville's eyes started fluttering open she let out a loud laugher. Even for a demon, Harry found her strangely lunatic.

  
  


Harry watched anxiously as Neville was woken up, didn't take his eyes of him even thought he could sense Tom crowding into his space and getting closer. He saw the horror in Neville's eyes as he caught sight of Bellatrix and the confusion as the charm was placed in his hands. He didn't understand.

  
  


“It's okay, Neville!” Harry said, “It'll lead you home.”  
  
If possible, Neville's eyes got even wider as he looked over and saw Harry being crowded by Tom. The demon was almost impossibly close now, hand resting possessively over Harry's chest. Harry found himself pushed back into the door from the proximity.

  
  


“Harry?! What's going on?!”

 

“We'll explain later, Neville. Just use the charm to get home.”

  
  


Neville looked at the charm and then back to Harry. “But what about you?! I can't leave you here!”

  
  


It was hard to argue that he would be fine when having a demon clinging to you, but Harry did his best. “I'll be fine Neville!” He squeezed out a reassuring smile, which prompted Tom to reach out and cradle his cheek with one hand, thumb smushed against Harry's lip like he wasn't allowed to smile at others. It sent a shiver down his spine. “Just go! Everything will be alright. Please, go!”

  
  


“But...” Neville closed his mouth. Maybe it was the earnest look in Harry's eyes that did it, but he closed his hand around the charm and whispered the word to activate it. A second later and he was gone.

  
  


Harry let out a sigh of relief. Neville was safe, now. Instead he had the time to worry about the next step of the plan. Hermione had said to give her as much time as possible, at least until two. It had been quarter past one when Harry got out. Had the time passed already? No, it couldn't have. He needed to stall.

  
  


Harry turned towards Tom, gasping as this put their faces close together. If he moved just a tad forward they would be kissing. He couldn't help but remember the dream and a dark blush spread over his cheeks. Tom grinned at the sight of it.

  
  


“Ah, Harry, I hate to be like this, but now that I've done you a favour, I need you to help me with something.”

  
  


Harry blinked then frowned. Tom needed his help? “With what?”

  
  


Just then the world rippled again and Harry noted it was coming from Tom. What was that? Tom in turn looked rather annoyed.

  
  


“You see, there is a tiny problem with me being here and not in hell. The world is breaking. Collapsing in on itself as it were. And you can help me stop it.”

  
  


“Me?” Harry was incredulous.

  
  


“Oh yes, you are absolutely essential. Now Harry, you will help me, won't you?”

  
  


Harry did _not_ want to help him. If their plan succeeded there was no need for whatever ritual Tom was planning anyway, because the world would fix itself. But he needed to play along.

  
  


“What will I need to do? Will it hurt?” Harry winced at the gleam in Tom's eye as he asked it.

  
  


Tom moved back a little, making Harry feel like he could finally breathe again.

  
  


“It's simple, really. All I need is some of your blood and then I'll handle the rest. So in that sense, it might hurt just a bit. But it'll be worth it.” He grabbed Harry's hand, then turned around. “Come!”

  
  


Harry was dragged along the corridor, but just for a few meters. They stopped before the cupboard under the stairs. Harry felt sick.

  
  


Tom pulled open the door, revealing the most intricate spell Harry had seen. It looked like a mix between demon magic and a summoning spell, the base area of the pentagram covered with symbols Harry had never seen in his life. In the centre there was a cauldron, some strange liquid already bubbling inside of it. The centre was placed exactly where Harry had once drawn his own simple pentagram.

  
  


“Bellatrix!” Tom snapped, and the black haired demon stepped forward. “Hold him, please.”

  
  


Before Harry had a chance to react his arms were held in a vice-like grip. Unlike Tom, Bellatrix had no scruples with hurting him and her claw-like nails dug into his skin.

  
  


“This will only hurt for a second, Harry.” Tom said and then drew his nail across Harry's arm, opening a long gash. He collected the blood that flowed in a vial, filling it to the top before running his finger against the wound. That hurt even worse, but where the finger passed the skin closed up, seared close by heat. Tom brought lifted the arm and ran his tongue over the wound, licking the blood that remained. “Delicious.”

  
  


Harry stared at him in horror. It wasn't until the demon turned toward the spell that he began to fight his captor, pulling frenetically to stop Tom from adding his blood to the cauldron. But Bellatrix's grip was firm and he could never hope to break it with brute force. Instead he began to chant a spell which would cause any demon in his presence horrible pain. The woman behind him reacted instantly, using one of Harry's own hands to hit him.

  
  


It didn't hurt a lot, but it was enough to break his chant. Either way, it was too late. Inside the cupboard, looking rather silly as he had to bend over, Tom had poured the blood in and he was completing it with his own chant.

  
  


As he spoke, the liquid in the cauldron swelled and changed colour, becoming a deep red. And then smoke was pouring into it, only it was the strangest smoke Harry had ever seen. It looked thicker, but at the same time more transparent. Following it's path back, Harry noticed with horror that it was coming from him. What was he doing?  
  
  


Then more welled forth from behind, and Harry realised that it wasn't coming from him but from Bellatrix. Slowly her grip on his arms weakened and she began to slouch down, slowly descending to the floor.

  
  


Harry was standing in the midst of the smoke, suddenly free. In the background the clock chimed again. It was time.

  
  


Spurned by adrenaline and desperation, Harry flew at Tom. In that awkward position the demon lost his balance and they both fell to the floor. Harry didn't waste a second to pull out the charm from around his neck and hold it against Tom's neck. He whispered the word.

  
  


The demon was fighting back now, but it was already too late, the charm whisking them away from Surrey.

  
  


With a roar, Tom threw Harry away from him, just as the world rippled again. This time it was worse than before and Harry screamed as the ripples passed over his body. He was being scalded, burned alive. It lasted for what felt like an eternity and when it finally was over Harry found himself panting on the ground of the graveyard.

  
  


Tom was, amazingly, lying inside a circle of binding together with an amulet identical to the one Harry held. It had worked! Harry laughed a strangled laugh. It had actually worked?!

  
  


He heard a groan from the side and was up on his feet in a second, finding Hermione and Ron sprawled on the ground. Whatever had happened when they were transported there had affected his friends as well.

  
  


“Hey! Are you alright?!”

  
  


His friends sat up, looking a bit tumbled but no more. Thank god. An angry voice brought his observations short.

  
  


“Harry!” Tom growled from the, essentially, cage. “What have you done!?” His hand was clawing at the invisible barrier caused by the circle of binding. They were lucky Harry hadn't messed any of the signs up when they arrived.

  
  


Feeling suddenly cocky, Harry smirked at Tom. “I think you know exactly what's about to happen.”

  
  


Out of their daze, Ron and Hermione ran around and took their positions around the circle. It was a strong circle, but without them draining the demon it would eventually break from the onslaught.

  
  


Tom was glaring at him, eyes narrowed. “Don't for a second think that you'll be able to get rid of me, Harry. Even if your foolish plan succeeds I'll be in your life forever.”

  
  


Harry shrugged. He could live with the illusions, had been managing just fine for years now.

  
  


“Ah, I see. You're thinking it'll go back to normal, don't you? Harmless illusions?” Now Tom was smirking at him and it made Harry nervous. “It can never go back to that. Blood really helps in making a connection.”

  
  


Harry paled. That spell the demon had cast... what had it done?

  
  


“Harry!” Ron yelled, “Hurry up and cast the spell! Before any of his cronies find us!”

  
  


The brunette nodded. Now wasn't the time to fall for Tom's mind games. He surely was just stalling.

  
  


Taking couple of steps back, Harry stood in the ring Hermione had prepared. It was part of the ritual, she had said, and in all four cardinal directions she had woven in a weakness. Phoenix feather to the north, elder-wood to the south and different runes to east and west. They weren't sure if they would work, but it was their best shot. On the inner circle there were a complicated pattern that Hermione had said would direct the power and help preserve Harry's. He only hoped it would work.

  
  


He began to chant, the strange syllabuses going slow at first but with increasing speed. Harry could feel the power rushing through him and the words seemed more to be living beings chasing each other out of his mouth. It was exhilarating, and it was exhausting. For each word that tore it self through his throat, and now he was yelling them, Harry could feel his energy disappearing. He faltered, settling down on his knees to save energy.

  
  


Tom had been laughing before, but he stopped as Harry went down on his knees. He looked strangely concerned, but not at all like he was going to disappear. Then Harry's eyes were blurring and he couldn't see, couldn't see if Tom was being banished. All he could hear was the words and distantly, voices. They sounded strangely concerned.

  
  


Then the world went black. He knew that he was still chanting, because he could feel the words tearing their way out, but he had no energy left. This spell would be the death of him, all the preparations Hermione had done for naught. But as long as it worked, Harry would be content.

  
  


  
  


Tom had been laughing at first, amused at their attempts to banish him. He was strong, stronger than many pure-blooded demons and he wouldn't give up this chance to walk the earth. He had been so close, in fact, he had succeeded. The spell had been completed.

  
  


Harry's friends would run out of energy soon enough and then he would be free to claim his prize. After this defeat, he doubted even Harry would stand up against him much longer.

  
  


His eyes landed on the human, watching how brightly his eyes shone with determination. He was talking too quietly for Tom to make out the words, thought it seemed a strange spell. But Harry was getting louder and louder, calling out words from an ancient spell.

  
  


In his cage, Tom froze. He turned his red eyes toward Harry's friend with the bushy hair.

  
  


“What spell is that?” His tone was cold, terrifying. “Is that a hekan ritual?”

  
  


She didn't have the chance to answer, however, as a voice came from behind the mausoleum.

  
  


“I-it is. And it will kill him.”

  
  


“Pettigrew.” Tom said to his servant, mind coming to a conclusion without pause. “Pray tell _how_ they got their hands on one of them. Didn't I explicitly say to remove all of their kin from Hogwarts?”

  
  


The rat-man shrugged and then giggled. “I-if you'd only treated me like I-I deserve this wouldn't have been necessary.”

  
  


“You will pay for this!” Tom roared.

  
  


Over in the circle, Harry fell to his knees. Tom swirled around in a flash, his hands beating the invisible wall.

  
  


“You need to stop him!” His eyes were bulging out. “He's going die if the spell keeps going!”

  
  


Hermione shook her head, but she didn't look certain. “No, no he shouldn't! I've made the calculations!”

  
  


“Stupid girl...” the demon hissed, “Don't you know the first thing about hekan rituals? They _always_ demand a life in return. You cannot get around it! Make him stop, NOW!”

  
  


But it wasn't Hermione who ran, but Ron, rushing towards Harry and yelling at him to stop. But it was too late, because Harry couldn't hear him under the rush of the spell. Ron shook his shoulder and Harry fell over completely.

  
  


“ARGH!” Tom yelled, angrier than he could ever remember. He had been outplayed by a rat! Stretching out his hand, he reached out with his magic and severed the magic he had woven and the rat hand fell off Pettigrew's arm. Blood started seeping out of the wound immediately.

  
  


Tom cast him a malicious smile and then he bent down, pulled and prodded at the ground. The dirt separated before him and the golden glow of hell-fire shone from below.  
  
“You!” He pointed to Hermione who was just sitting, not knowing what to do with herself, “Read it in reverse!”

  
  


With a last lingering stare at Harry, Tom threw himself head-first down into the pit. The opening closed behind him like it had never been there.

  
  


Harry's chanting grew more quiet until it ground to a halt. Hermione scrabbled over to his side. Even thought Harry was quiet now, it was clear that he still was dying, fading away right before their eyes.

  
  


“What do we do, what do we do?!” Hermione moaned, holding Harry's hand. “Ron, what do we do?!”

  
  


Ron looked just as panicked. “Can't we take it back?! The spell has stopped, there has to be a way to take it back! Hermione, you know all of these things, what do we do!? Can't we reverse it?!”  
  
  


Hermione gasped. You-know-who had said that. He had told her to reverse it. No, he had said to read it in reverse! With shaking hands, Hermione got out the paper she had written the spell on. Backwards, they could do that.

  
  


“Come on, Harry, say it with me!”

  
  


Harry groaned and his eyelids fluttered open just a tiny bit, revealing nothing but white.

  
  


“Harry, Harry?! Can you hear me?”  
  
  


He murmured something which might have been consent. It would have to do.

  
  


“Okay, now, Harry, say this with me. Exalta...”

  
  


It took time and a lot of tries, but one word at a time they coaxed Harry into repeating the chant backwards. Once they were done, the brunette seemed to collapse completely, but the colour had returned to his cheeks.. She fell back on the grass, exhausted.

  
  


Further away on the graveyard, Pettigrew was kneeling, keening as he held his bloody stump.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. Honestly I'm not sure I'm happy with the pacing. Too slow yet too fast. Oh well.
> 
> *Edit* I will probably be adding a short epilogue to this as well, in (hopefully) the near future.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who have read, enjoyed, kudosed and reviewed this!
> 
> This was supposed to be a short epilogue to connect some threads. It turned out a bit longer than I had planned. And not quite so epiloguey... Also interrupted by the story I did for nanowrimo (which I hopefully will post here soon. I just want to finish it first.) But I hope you all enjoy it and that it's a better way to end this!

Epilogue

  
  


Pettigrew was a sorry sight, even weeks after he had lost his hand (again). Madame Pomfrey, the Order's nurse, had determined him well enough to actually be confined instead of handcuffed in the hospital wing. Harry was glad, because the idea of the rat escaping had kept nagging at him, but seeing him now... Well, Harry wasn't sure he could have escaped even if he wanted to.

  
  


Pettigrew's clothes were hanging of his body and his face was pale and sunken. Clearly nearly dying from blood-loss hadn't benefited him much. And even thought he had been under Pomfrey's tender care for so long, the bandage around his wrist still kept discolouring from his blood.

  
  


“Wound won't heal...” the nurse had complained to Dumbledore, the trio eavesdropping outside during a botched attempt to sneak in, “I don't know what that demon did but it's bad. He won't die from it, not so long we make sure to take care of it, but the bleeding isn't looking to stop any time soon.”

  
  


Seeing Pettigrew in that cell, Harry almost felt bad for him. The man had been the cause of so much trouble, had been the cause of the world almost _ending_ for crying out loud, yet Harry found a semblance of pity for him. He hadn't forgiven him by a long shot thought.

  
  


But where Harry didn't find anger, someone else did. A blur of red hair swished past Harry where he stood blocking the door and then Ron was at the edge of the cell, hands banging into the bars.

  
  


“You damned traitor! Stop looking so sorry for yourself! You should be so lucky you're just locked up here and not fed to the demons you like so much. Had it been my choice, we would have left you there to _bleed_ to death!”

  
  


In his bleak corner, Pettigrew flinched at the onslaught. He faced Ron with big eyes that seemingly shone with innocence. It did nothing but fuel his anger.

  
  


Harry felt a bit sick from it, seeing those eyes pleading at him. After the man's actions it couldn't be anything but an act to get their pity. Pettigrew was staring straight at him, as if expecting him to save him from Ron's wrath. It was his bad luck that Harry didn't particularly feel like playing the hero at that moment.

  
  


He wasn't the only one feeling that way. In his mind, something unfurled. It was dark, evil and had been a habitant his mental space since that night. Harry kept very still, since so far his inaction had seemed to lull it back to sleep. A pit of dread laid in his stomach at the thought of what might happen should it unfold.

  
  


Most certainly, this was related to the spell. Harry wasn't stupid, even he could put two and two together. Tom had cast a spell using his blood and he had bragged that it built a connection, so surely this pile of darkness was related to that. But it was dormant, resting. If Harry had any say it would stay that way. He had been blissfully Tom free since the banishment, not a hallucination or mirage.

  
  


Things stilled in his mind and Harry let out a sigh of relief. It was safe again.

  
  


Attention moving back to his friends he noted that Hermione had gone over to Ron and were talking to him, easing his anger. They needed him to focus, that much was true. After all, they were there for a reason.

  
  


Dumbledore had had a lot of chats with Pettigrew, where they knew the man spilled the beans about summoning Tom. That confession had rushed out of him the moment he woke up in the hospital wing, disoriented and weak. But what had been said after that, Dumbledore was keeping to himself. There was no explanation on why he had done it, or why, in the end the rat had decided to betray Tom. When asked, Dumbledore refused to tell them. So in that case they would just have to find out for themselves.

  
  


“Peter,” Hermione said and didn't cringe as he turned tearful eyes to her, “we've come because you owe us an explanation.”

  
  


Pettigrew nodded, docile. “O-of course, a-anything.” He stammered.

  
  


Hermione gave him a tight smile, clearly not buying into the act. “Why did you do it, Peter? Why betray the Order?”

  
  


Pettigrew looked away from here, seemingly in shame. “That's a l-long story. B-but you could say he has a ten-tendency to charm anyone. A-and it made me feel special. I n-never meant to betray, but he was p-persistent.”

  
  


What a load of bollocks, Harry thought, getting annoyed. As Pettigrew talked, the feeling only intensified.

  
  


“H-he had sought me out, y-you see. Me! U-useless, whimp P-peter. And once I was sufic-ficiently charmed he asked me to b-bring the boy.” There was a quick gesture toward Harry. “Wh-what could I do but obey? He'd given me his promise that he wouldn't hurt him.”

  
  


“And you believed that?” Harry snapped, feeling angrier than he had in a long while. Charmed, that was the rat's reason for betraying them all, nearly causing the end of the world? Charmed?! Spite and hatred rose from a dark corner of his mind.

  
  


Pettigrew covered in the cage, staring at Harry with fear in his eyes. He was pathetic, a waste of space and a waste of good air. He didn't deserve to keep having it. ' _I can help you with that...'_ a voice whispered in Harry's mind and without realising what he was doing the boy nodded.

  
  


If either Ron or Hermione noticed the gesture is hard to say, but they did notice as Harry's demeanour almost changed. The brunette stalked closer to the cell, each step slow and fluid. As he reached the bars he raised a hand and wrapped around them, leaning as close to the prisoner as he could.

  
  


“So why then, if you admired Voldemort that much, would you betray him?” The voice was smooth as silk, none of the anger present. He was a patient hunter, able to lure his prey into revealing the answers he sought.

  
  


Pettigrew wasn't stupid thought, for all of his imbecilic actions. The sudden mood had him staring cautiously at Harry from the corner of his eye, not moving even an inch closer.

  
  


“He...” The rat paused, liked his lip. Enough blood had leaked through the bandages to fall to the floor with a wet splat. “He betrayed me first. All... all th-those things I'd been promised. W-wealth, and happiness. Instead I was st-stuck with this hand.” He raised the stump and let out a mirthless chuckle. “Not even that, anymore. And the pain he put me th-through when y-you escaped. You couldn't imagine it. Using- using my body to deliver messages! It was demeaning and I realised why y-you don't trust demons!”

  
  


Harry's eyes narrowed. “So why did you do what you did! Why did you betray _me_?!”

  
  


“I-it was the only way. Trust me, nothing else would have worked! I'm sorry, Harry!” Eyes wide, Pettigrew crawled towards him over the rough stone floors until he was right next to the brunette. “I only did what was needed!”  
  
  


Harry's eyebrow crooked, twisting his face into a sardonic mask. “The only way...” He crouched in front of the other man. Pettigrew stared at him, fear creeping into his expression from the look on Harry's face.

  
  


“You..!”  
  
  


Before he had the time to say anything else, Harry had reached between the bars and grabbed the man by the collar, hauling him close. The expression on his face was vicious. “Did you really think you'd get away with it, rat?” He hissed, too low for Hermione and Ron to hear him. “Did you really think I wouldn't find a way to get back?”  
  
  


“Harry!” Hermione yelled, and he was suddenly hauled back by strong hands. He turned to stare at them with eyes that flashed red.

  
  


“Whoa, what?!” Ron exclaimed, loosing his grip from the shock.

  
  


“No!” Hermione moaned, “Harry, what's going on?”  
  
  


The brunette got up from where he had fallen after Ron dropped him, cracking his shoulders. He smirked at the pair. “Oh please, Hermione, don't pretend like you're more stupid than you actually are. Why don't you tell me what's going on?”

  
  


Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Voldemort. Get out of Harry's mind right now. You're surrounded by exorcists, don't think I'll hesitate to cast your possessive ass out of him!”  
  
  


“Well...” Tom in Harry's body said, “I'd like to see you try. My bond with Harry runs a bit deeper than possession.” He smirked at her. “And now that he's let me in, the possibilities are endless.”

  
  


“Pft, you're crazy to think anyone will let you!” Ron chimed in. “It doesn't matter what you've done, we'll get you out of my best mate!”

  
  


“Perhaps. I do however think it's time I held my promise to Harry.” He turned back to the cage. Pettigrew had fled to the back of the cage again and was staring at him in fear. “I did promise to help him with a slight pest problem...”

  
  


The rat shuddered and Harry clenched his fist. The irregular splats from blood working its way through bandages was replaced by a stream, colouring the floor red. Pettigrew huddled his arm close, his other hand desperately clenching it to stop the blood. But it was useless.

  
  


“It's done...” he whispered.

  
  


A moment later Harry took a couple of unsteady steps back and then swung around to his friends, cheeks pale and eyes wide and very green. “What... what did I just do?”

  
  


There was no answer but Pettigrew's pained howl.

  
  


After that... after that Harry felt like he was slowly losing control of his mind. That darkness that had been lurking beneath the surface, the darkness he had spent weeks keeping contained, was now free. It twirled in his mind, influencing his actions and his thoughts.

  
  


Harry didn't dare being around his friends in fear that he'd loose control and snap at them. But neither did he dare to be on his own because that's when the presence – and who was he kidding, really, it was _Tom –_ was the strongest. When he was alone, Harry would sometimes catch himself admiring his own hand, marvelling at the veins visible beneath the skin.

  
  


“ _So fragile...”_ the darkness would whisper, _“So easy to break... I can make you strong again. Harry...”_ It would twist and twirl around his mind, cloaking him in darkness and comfort. _“I'll protect you Harry... and all it'd take is to let go. Give in...”_

Harry would tear himself out of the trance, heart racing. He'd force Tom to the back of his mind and the action would be followed by a quiet chuckle. _“You know where to find me, darling.”_

  
  


Every time the offer was made, Harry found it harder and harder to resist.

  
  


His friends were busy trying to find a way to help him out, to get the demon out of his mind completely. But if they thought the previous situation was bad, it was nothing compared to this. They had tried to exorcise Harry, multiple times using all possible methods. But even so Tom remained wedged in his mind and it was clear he had no intention to leave. In fact, Harry wasn't sure the demon could leave even if he wanted to. That spell that had been cast... Tom had said that it bound them together and even if Harry had been doubting it before, he wasn't now. No ordinary exorcism would be able to break that hold.

  
  


The problem was that they had had no clue what spell it had been. A mixed jumble of demon and warlock spells, clearly something that Tom himself had created. As the demon refused to say – a most botched attempt of communicating with him had proved that – their only option had been to work from the beginning and analyse the spell itself.

  
  


Unfortunately, in Harry and Tom's tussle at his uncle's place they had managed to turn over the cauldron and mangle half of the signs. Whatever potion had been left in the cauldron had been carefully collected, and a team had taken photographs of the remaining ritual. But the original was gone now, professionally cleaned up as always. It wouldn't do to let the general public catch wind of such things.

  
  


Harry had filled in the blanks as much as he could, drawing the symbols he remembered seeing and describing what had happened. Sometimes, however, he worried that he told the wrong thing because he could feel the darkness affecting his mind, muddling his memories.

  
  


It didn't matter much, because after the initial help, Harry wasn't allowed to work on the research. Unfortunately too unreliable with a spy in his mind, worse yet, a spy that could take control of his actions. Better then to leave Harry out of it.

  
  


What he had been told was that it was almost certainly a stabilizing spell of some kind, since Tom had needed it to stay on earth successfully. The voice in his mind had laughed at that, marvelled at the obviousness of it.

  
  


“ _Your friend might be clever, Harry, but she isn't_ that _clever. You and me will be together forever. So why not accept this fact and embrace it? I'll never let anyone hurt you.”_

  
  


“Except for yourself,” Harry mumbled back in annoyance. The laughter he got in return sent a shiver down his spine.

  
  


“ _We'll have so much fun together, dear.”_

  
  


Days passed, and Harry spent most of them locked up in his room. He'd tried going out to banish demons a couple of times, but whenever he did so he almost lost control completely. It was the worst when he was near a summoning ground. Did the proximity of demons and hell affect him? It certainly seemed like it and that made him feel lost and helpless. What purpose did he serve, if he couldn't even help the order out? He was useless at paperwork, after all, and not the best of negotiators.

  
  


“ _You should just become mine,”_ Tom whispered. _“You'd be good at that.”_

  
  


The words might have been meant as discouragement, but amazingly to Harry they had the opposite effect. So he was supposed to be a demon's plaything, was he? Not a chance.

  
  


Arming himself with a brush, Harry set about to clean the headquarters. It certainly kept him busy, because the castle was huge and there were parts of it that no one had bothered to clean for ages. The order had used to be larger, but as the years passed less and less members joined up.

  
  


As he moved around the castle, Harry would sometimes get a narrative of things past. Tom sight in apparent nostalgia as he walked through halls the other had spent a lot of time in, or done something particularly titillating in.

  
  


“ _Did you know, this is the room I first killed an order member in? I made it look like an accident, of course, but I can still remember the beautiful patterns his blood made on the walls. Would you like to see?”_

  
  


Harry did not, but was greeted with a ghost image of blood dripping down either way. After that he didn't have the stomach to keep cleaning that particular room anymore. It was left dirty even after every other room had gotten a throughout cleaning.

  
  


Through his sweep, Harry realised that cleaning did more than getting away layers upon layers of old dust. It also allowed him to find treasures of a distant past. Books, notes, old ritual daggers. It seemed like whenever a room stopped being in use no one ever bothered to look through it. Harry felt like he unearthed more of the order's history during his sweep than they already knew.

  
  


Whatever he found that he believed could be useful, Harry brought to Dumbledore. The old man seemed almost delighted by his finds, and the brunette trusted that he knew how to deal with them best. Hermione even expressed her happiness at the increase in books to him one day.

  
  


“Don't think I didn't notice, Harry.” She said, sitting next to him in the couch, “those books you've found are a treasure beyond everything else. I can't wait to look through them all!”  
  
  


Harry smiled at her enthusiasm. It seemed that some good had come out of the mess.

  
  


“ _Except for me, you mean,”_ Tom whispered in his mind, and it was a statement, not a question. 

  
  


The sudden input made Harry frown instead and Hermione, quick as ever, realised what was going on. “How are things going, in regards to... you know what?”

  
  


Harry shrugged. Things were, well, he couldn't say that they were good, not while he had a demon stuck in his mind, but they were better. The cleaning actually helped keeping Tom at bay, because Harry was more aware of what he was doing, focusing on his actions. There was less chance of a surprise attack. And the demon himself, well... except for how he relentlessly kept expressing his need to 'protect' Harry, and some isolated incidents of gore, he was actually quite good company. The stories he told wasn't all about gore splattering the walls, sometimes he would simply tell Harry what life had been like when he was in the order. Tell him of how they would train and of demons they fought. When Tom felt like sharing information Harry marvelled at his knowledge. 

  
  


“I think we'll survive.” Thought he'd be glad when she succeeded so he could have some real privacy again. Harry hadn't been able to quite enjoy a shower for weeks now. 

  
  


“Don't worry, Harry,” Hermione reassured him, “we'll figure it out.”

  
  


“I know you will. And in the meanwhile, I'll just keep cleaning. At least it keeps Snape off my back.”

  
  


Once Harry had finished cleaning the castle he spent some time just combing the rooms for more hidden pieces of history. That was how he came across the room he hadn't cleaned. What he in his mind had dubbed the murder room.  Tom had scared him out of it last time with his illusions, but this time Harry was determined to go through it. 

  
  


The moment Harry entered the room, the illusion was back. He could feel Tom practically purring as he reeled back in disgust. The demon enjoyed toying with him, practically lowed to send Harry's emotions rolling.

  
  


The exorcist steeled himself against the images and headed inside anyway. He started out with cleaning but soon gave it up. If that was how Tom wanted to play he'd rather just hunt down whatever goods could be found there and move on.

  
  


But the more Harry looked around, the worse the illusion got. Soon enough he felt as if he was walking in blood, the sticky substance clinging to his hands and his feet as he removed debris. There was almost a desperation to the action from the demon's side. Hands twitching from the urge to wash them, Harry's eyes narrowed. Was there.. was there something he wasn't meant to be seeing in there?

  
  


With the realisation, their tender peace broke. Tom forced his presence forwards, needing and cajoling for Harry to let got. And under the onslaught of illusion and pleading, Harry would buckle. Sensing his weakness the demon would push harder, sometimes going as far as fighting him to gain control.  Where  Tom had previously been more like a cat, lazily playing with Harry, he now seemed to be attacking in earnest. 

  
  


In the distant parts of the castle Harry could scream his lungs out without anyone being the wiser.  And scream he did when Tom raked mental claws through his mind, fighting to weaken him enough to take over and to be in the drivers seat. Harry didn't want to know what he would do if he succeeded, considering that the last time Tom had killed a man. Well, not a good man perhaps, but that didn't matter.

  
  


There was something in that room, Harry was certain of it and it was the only thing which kept him clinging to a thread of consciousness. There was something in that room that Tom didn't want him to find, and that meant Harry had to find it.

  
  


Harry waded through what was now streams of blood and groped his way along bookshelves too grimy to discern items on. The slippery liquid made him fall, and he crawled his way forwards, searching every nook and cranny.

  
  


From an outsiders view, it would have looked mental. But no one went to that part of the castle, no one had even gone there during Tom's days at the order, and that had been the exact reason from him to hide it there.

  
  


By pure accident, Harry found the hiding space. As he had pushed his way to his feet, pulling himself up with one had as the other was busy cradling the head that was pounding with pain, a sudden attack from Tom made him slip and fall. Reaching out wildly for anything to hold on to, his hand grabbed an old candle sconce. It pulled down as he fell, incapable of supporting his weight, and with it came the stone it had been fastened to.

  
  


In his mind, Tom snarled.

  
  


Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he saw the small, pristine book lying safely hidden there, before his back and head hit the ground and all he saw was explosions on the back of his eyelids.

  
  


Tom hissed _“Harry!”_ but wasted no time to push forwards. Barely conscious as it was, Harry lost the fight.

  
  


Eyes narrowed, Tom slowly raised Harry's hand to feel at the back of his head. There was no blood, so that was a good thing, but the room spun as he lowered himself to a sitting position. Possibly a concussion then.

  
  


It had been a while since Tom last used healing spells, but his memory had never been bad and it only took a short while for him to draw a symbol with his finger and whisper some words. The thumping in his head died down to a distant thudding. It would have to do.

  
  


Tom got up from the ground and dusted himself off, grabbing the notebook from the hiding place that had kept it safe for hundreds of years. It had been his blunder, he certainly realised, to attempt to distract Harry from searching in there. But he had seen the viciousness in which his boy attacked the other rooms, hunting and searching until he had found every single secret contained within them. He couldn't let Harry find this one. There was too much information contained within these pages. It would have to be destroyed.

  
  


It was a pity, of course, Tom didn't relish the thought to destroy his careful research, but it would need to be done. This hold on Harry was only temporary, would always only be temporary unless he gave his true consent, and the boy would make sure to hunt it down if he only hid it again.

  
  


Tom tucked the book into his back-pocket. He would have preferred to burn it right there and then, but his human self had ensured it to be fire-proof. It had seemed logical back then because he couldn't take the risk of it getting burned while he was researching demons and magic, but now it was a bother. Instead he'd need to get out and throw it in the lake, letting the pages dissolve in the water. And even if it took some time, not even Harry would be able to fish it up from there before it was destroyed.

  
  


With long steps he strode out of the room, red eyes scanning the hallway. When he reached the populated parts and the exit, Tom was careful to take less populated paths to avoid the pesky exorcists. While he could act like Harry well enough, a single look at his red irises would give the game up and that was not something he was willing to risk right now. It was better that he met no one.

  
  


As he closed in on the doors, Tom let out an internal sigh. There had been no one in his way, the only thing was a brief flash of someone ahead in the corridor, but they had turned off without stopping. His path was clear now, and once he was outside there would be no stopping him from destroying that book.

  
  


As it would turn out, he had celebrated too soon. A swift shadow jumped out of a parallel path, pushing him down and pressing a wet rag over his nose and mouth. Harry's weaker body wasn't capable of fighting them off, and red eyes stared in anger at the greasy locks of Serverus Snape before he passed out.

  
  


When Harry came to, it was to the sound of Snape's grating voice.

  
  


“I found _him_ sneaking around in a suspicious manner and figured that something needed to be done. This was in his back pocket.”

  
  


Harry blinked and the room cleared before him. He was in his bed and Hermion, Ron and Snape were standing off in a corner. Snape held a vaguely familiar book in his hand. Wait, was that..?

  
  


He attempted to sit up, but grunted in surprise as he found himself unable to move his arms. “What the..?!” Harry said, pulling harder. There was no slack, his hands firmly tied to the headboard. “What the heck you guys?!”  
  
  


The three looked over at him and Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

  
  


“Harry, thank god!” She hurried over to his side. “When you-know-who took over you again we weren't sure if you'd be back in control once you woke up. I'm glad to see that you're back.”

  
  


Hermione reached out to untie him, but stopped short as Snape's voice echoed through the chamber.

  
  


“Do you think that's wise, miss Granger?” He stalked closer. “I disagreed with the earlier decision to let him wander unhindered, and now that it's been proven that _he_ has been capable to take over again, I must insist that Potter is kept contained. We wouldn't want any accidents, now would we?”

  
  


Hermione grimaced as she considered his words. It pained her to see her friend stuck in that way but...

  
  


“I'm sorry Harry,” She said, “But Snape's right.”

  
  


“What?!” Ron and Harry shouted at the same time.

  
  


“Hermione, you can't be serious!” Harry continued. “Come on, you know I've been managing well for weeks now!”

  
  


“I know, Harry, I know,” Hermione looked pained, “but you-know-who had control over you. And if Snape hadn't been able to stop him, who knows what he could have been up to?”  
  
  


“ _Nothing much...”_ a voice whispered sullenly in Harry's mind, _“I just needed to take care of some unfinished business.”_

  
  


Oh, that was right, Harry realised. The book. The one Tom had been adamant to ensure Harry didn't get a hold off. What was in it anyway?

  
  


“But that was only because he became desperate. Because I had almost found the book.”

  
  


“This book, Potter?” Snape sneered as he held it out.

  
  


Harry nodded, saying nothing. Inside Tom let out an annoyed growl.

  
  


“What's so special about the book?” Hermione asked, holding her hand out for it. After a slight reluctance, Snape handed it over.

  
  


“I've no idea,” Harry confessed. “But he made a lot of effort to ensure I wouldn't find it. So there's got to be something good in there.”

  
  


“ _I won't let you!”_ Tom suddenly raged in his mind, and Harry found that there was a suddenly battle for command of his body. Tom was attacking relentlessly, clawing and pushing Harry's consciousness down, down.

  
  


“Hey..!” Harry yelped, but his mind was still not quite recovered from last time, and Tom surprised him in his sudden ferocity. He found his grip slipping.

  
  


Harry's lips began to move without his intention, and his eyes, now more red than green glared daggers at the book. Strange sounds that didn't belong to the human language tore their way past his lips and there was a strange tingling sensation. 

  
  


In Hermione's hand, the book began to heat up.

  
  


“What's he doing?!” she shrieked, “Harry, stop him!”

  
  


Harry fought tooth and nail, keeping his precious grip and gaining back step by step. He needed to stop Tom from destroying the book, and desperation made him stronger. With no small effort he managed to take back possession of his body, banishing Tom deeper.

  
  


“ _It wouldn't have worked, anyway...”_ Tom said, sulking in his mind. He seemed to have accepted his fate for now, but Harry didn't trust that he wouldn't try to do a sneak attack again. Maybe it was a good idea to keep him contained after all.

  
  


Snape was glaring at him. “I think we've established that you will remain this way, Potter.”

  
  


Harry might have agreed, but he glared daggers at the older man either way.

  
  


“Don't worry, Harry,” Hermione said, trying to smooth things over. “I bet there's something in here that can help you, and as soon as I find it you'll be out of there.”

  
  


Harry closed his eyes, accepting his fate.

  
  


  
  


After that Harry began to feel like a guinea pig. Hermione's suspicion had turned out to be correct, because the book contained Tom's notes and spells he had invented while alive. Hermione had been ecstatic upon reading it and then later on, frustrated. Tom gloated over her apparent struggle with making sense of the book, even thought it was written in English.

  
  


“ _Not so clever after all, is she? And here you made her out to be some kind of genius.”_

  
  


Harry didn't pay any attention to Tom's mockery as he laid stuck in bed. Ron kept him company as much as he could, but he still had to work and live his own life. So for most of the day Harry had no company but the voice in his head, and that, he had decided, wasn't worthy of being called company.

  
  


It was clear that Tom was cajoling him to get back on his good side, trying to get him to talk. But Harry wouldn't have none of it. He'd fallen for his attempts of friendliness once already and wasn't going to be fooled again. Tom wanted nothing but his own gain.

  
  


It was horribly boring, thought, even after they changed his bonds to handcuffs that allowed him the chance to move and feed himself. Hermione had also kindly left him a stack of books. Unfortunately she didn't quite have the same tastes as Harry did and he found most of them boring beyond belief.

  
  


Every so often Hermione would come to visit, trying out something new on him. The book was like a puzzle, she said, and if she could just figure it out she might be able to permanently vanish Tom from his mind.

  
  


“ _Hmph,”_ Tom scowled at that, _“That's not going to happen no matter how much she researches. There is nothing that can break the bond now.”_

  
  


While that might have been true, it didn't mean that the bond couldn't be weakened. A little over a week after Harry had been imprisoned – he didn't keep count because it depressed him – Hermione returned with a new ritual. As she laid out the ingredients, Harry felt Tom flinching. He smiled victoriously. That had to mean she was on the right track.

  
  


Sitting back, Hermione arranged a variety of things around Harry. There was a phoenix feather and wood carved with the same runes they had used in Tom's banishing. And without further ado, Hermione began to chant a long, complicated string.

  
  


Harry felt as if a cold knife was tearing through him, splitting and dividing, tearing out roots of _something_ he hadn't even known was there as it went. It didn't hurt per say, but it wasn't comfortable either. Tom was letting out a guttural moan in the background.

  
  


And then she was done and Harry felt... he felt different. Tom was still there in his mind but he was separate now. Harry couldn't quite explain what was different, but it was almost like a glass pane had been placed between them. They could both see the other perfectly well, but neither could touch.

  
  


It was a relief.

  
  


It was a whole different bother to convince Snape and the rest of the order that everything was harmless now, and Harry found himself with a constant guard for weeks after. But he was free from the confinement and Harry knew that Tom wouldn't be able to control him now. He might still be there, but he wouldn't be able to take control.

  
  


“ _It doesn't matter.”_ Tom said, voice full of confidence. _“You will always belong to me.”_

  
  


Harry shuddered, but shrugged. “ As if that matters. You're nothing but a voice stuck in my mind. Harmless.”

  
  


He i gnored the laughter that followed.  Life would go on and he could manage this. Things could go back to normal now. 

 


End file.
